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PASSAGES 



THE HISTOEY OF LIBERTY 



^Hs7g e sW/^/ 



FROM THE 



HISTORY OF LIBERTY 



To tvdatfiov to iXav&sfJor, rb Ss IXbvQsqov to tvipv%ov xQivarrtg. 

Judging Happiness to be in Liberty, and Liberty to be in Excellence of Soul. 

Pericles to the Athenians. Thucydides. II. 43. 



BOSTON: 
WILLIAM D. TICKNOR & COMPANY. 

MDCCCXLVII. 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1846, by 

SAMUEL ELIOT, 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts 






BOSTON: 

Press of Thurston, Torn-, fc Emerson, 
- 31 Devonshire Street. 



- 



9*^ 



PREFACE. 



It is hardly necessary to explain the connection between 
the Passages, drawn all from one great stream of History, 
which are contained in this little volume. The efforts of the 
first Italian Reformers, here, of course, very briefly sketched, 
are illustrations of the isolation and travail of the Dark 
Ages. Wycliffe's work was a work of national principles, 
just beginning, in his time, to be acknowledged by his country 
of England. Savonarola's reforms express the desires for 
peace and purification, which were in all true hearts, during a 
period of so much strife and so many stains, as that period of 
transition from the Middle Ages to our Modern Times. The 
Castilian war is one among numerous histories concerning the 
same desires for juster principles and larger life, as they were 
in many places forced into struggles, tumultuous and unavail- 
ing. 

Without turning away from abstract truths, that are vig- 
orous and beautiful to all who have open souls, we may be 
glad to seek the greater power and completer beauty which 
belong to human examples. We begin with things individual 
to end with things general, and all our Cathedrals must be 
built up, column by column, stone by stone. It is after such 
simplest purposes that these passages are here put together. 
Although neither many in number, nor full in detail, they may 
nevertheless be as clear, separately, as a single diminutive vol- 
ume can be made to comprehend. I wish to say one thing 
very plainly about them all, that their design, in being histori- 



VI PREFACE. 

cal and in not being biographical, is no further concerned with 
the incidents of individual lives than as the individual lives are 
united by these incidents to the general history of Liberty and 
of Humanity. 

We have claims, as Americans, upon History, that it should 
be written anew for us, after our own principles of thought 
and action. Pulchrum est bene facere reipublicce ; etiam bene 
dicere haud absurdum est. This book, humble as it is, has 
been written in cordial sympathy with such desires as we 
may all be willing to follow, for nearer knowledge of some 
remembered and some forgotten names. Yet unless these 
pages bear a higher mark, unless the love, to which they give 
witness, be large as the love of humanity and pure as the love 
of God, it would be better that they were not printed, or even 
written at all. 

I do not hesitate to add a few words not my own, even 
though they seem to make a profession, for which others may 
now have little concern : "I constantly feel how overpower- 
ing the labor is and how many advantages I want ; yet I feel, 
too, that I have the love of History so strong in me, that I 
can write something which will be read, and which, I trust, 
will encourage the love of all things noble and just and wise 
and holy." I ask only this, that Arnold's words may be 
allowed to express the purposes of one who is Arnold's pupil 
in heart. 

Samuel Eliot. 

December 22, 1846. 



CONTENTS 



Early Italian Reformers .... 


Pajfe 
1 


I. Isolation of the Middle Ages 


. 3 


II. Labor for Liberty : Arnaldo da Brescia 


. 15 


III. Labor for Peace : Giovanni di Vicenza 


. 21 


IV. Labor for Country : Jacopo de' Bussolari 


. 24 


V. Failures in such Reforms . 


. 28 


John de Wycliffe 


. 31 


I. State and Church in Wycliffe's Times 


. 33 


II. Wycliffe's Birth, Education, and Learning 


. 59 


III. His Reforms in Church Constitution . 


. 66 


IV. His Reforms in Church Doctrine . 


. 81 


V. His Translation of the Scriptures 


. 109 


VI. His Secular Reforms .... 


. 114 


VII. His Death and Exhumation 


. 122 


The Reforms of Savonarola .... 


. 131 


I. A Palm Sunday Festival 


. 133 


II. Savonarola's Early Years . 


136 


III. His Labor in Florence 


153 


IV. His Trial and Death .... 


. 191 



Vlii CONTENTS. 



Pa;e 



The War of the Communities in Castile . . 201 

I. Castile and its Liberty ... • • 203 

II. The Early Years of Charles's Reign . .211 

III. Padilla and his Fellow-Commoners . . 221 

IV. The War, from its Beginning in Toledo to 

the Failure of the Commoners' Demands . 225 

V. The War, from the Gathering of Forces to 

the Battle of Villalar . . . -248 

VI. Execution of Padilla and Submission of 

Castile -.264 



ERRATA. 

There are some corrections to be made in this volume, for the sake not only of accuracy 
but of common sense, as follows : 

Page 17, line 5, read doctrines of frugality and justice. 
" 26, line 4, read divisions instead of diversions. 
" 66, line 4, read younger instead of young. 
,, „ Q ( line 7, read spiced instead of special. 

/y ' \ " 8, read lore instead of love. 
" 92, line 1, read get instead of set. 

" 111, line 12, wonderful to all instead of wonderfully strange. 
■« 128, in note, painful instead of fanciful. 
" 144, line 17, to have been instead of to be. 



EARLY ITALIAN REFORMERS. 



ARNALDO DA BRESCIA, Died 1155. 
GIOVANNI DI VICENZA, Died 1231. 
JACOPO DE' BUSSOLARI, Died 1360. 



Come s'impara 
Quanto morte sia piu che vita cara. 

Guittone di Arezzo. 



Men have discovered that something was done in this so-called 
dark time, (the Middle Ages,) which we in our bright time could 
not well dispense with. —Professor Maurice. 



EARLY ITALIAN REFORMERS. 



I. 



The Church of Rome, although now aban- 
doned by many generations, was long ago the 
great strong-hold of humanity. Open to all men 
and to most opinions, liberal and progressive in 
its best influences, it united and protected Europe 
through those Middle Ages, when Europe was 
broken up in divisions, and surrendered to feu- 
dality. While the Church was defending itself, 
it was also defending mankind. A poor carpen- 
ter's son, Hildebrand, became the great pope 
Gregory Seventh, and he, giving voice and action 
to demands which the age about him was pre- 
pared to sustain, declared his spiritual power 
independent of all temporal authority. The great 
purpose of Gregory's life was accomplished not 
long after his death, and Rome, set free, seemed 
destined to become again the mother of living 



4 EARLY ITALIAN REFORMERS. 

empires.* On her laws, society as well as religion, 
now depended; by her keys, it was believed, the 
world here and the world hereafter were unlocked 
to men; and to her altars was brought the worship 
of confiding hearts. Feudal force submitted, or 
seemed to submit, to Church-principles, and, as it 
were in emblem of these, there rose from out cold 
stones the Cathedral column and the Cathedral 
spire. To this time, even, we might have been 
among the dreamers and the pilgrims of Rome, 
had she done half she pretended to fulfil. But 
the day of triumph passed away, and the day of 
shame drew nigh. The principles which the 
Church professed, it presently upheld by force as 
much as by reason, and in abandoning its own 
laws, it divided and deceived its people. When 
it was lifted up above its enemies, when the 
strong and the weak were both at its mercy, then, 
even then, did it set itself up as strongest of all, 
and deny its better promises in injustice and in 
persecution. Rome rose, in the Dark Ages, by 
faith ; she began to fall by superstition, even be- 
fore the Dark Ages were gone ; and as the world 
was for a season bound to her by charity, so 
by oppression was it sundered from her forever. 
Between the first Crusade against the Saracens 



* It was in 1122, that Henry V., Emperor, formally yielded to 
Calixtus II., Pope, the claims which German Emperors had hith- 
erto maintained to interference in Church elections. Gregory 
VII. died in 1085. 



EARLY ITALIAN REFORMERS. 5 

(in 1095) and the Crusade against the Albi- 
geois (in 1209), there were hut one hundred 
years ; yet that single century separates catholic 
and uncatholic Rome.* 

How the increasing vigor of Europe, grown 
already from youth towards maturity, should 
be turned to good things, without greater help 
from the Church, was apparently the great 
doubt of those doubtful times. But Europe was 
still ruled by feudal principles, just as it long had 
been, in every part of its society-f Kings, barons, 
and priests, at least, devoted themselves to feu- 
dality, seizing upon it as it were a cord by which 
they could be dragged on their own rugged ways. 
The points to which they were bent, although 
certainly wide enough apart, were in the same 
direction before them, so that in their struggling 
together, there was some progress towards our 
modern world, of which they never dreamed. 
Yet there was a strange confusion of various 
elements, that feudality could but painfully com- 



* Ove '1 ben more e'l mal si nutre e cria. — Petrarca, Son. 
CVIL 

t Les elements meme les plus etrangers a ce systeme (feodal) 
l'Eglise, les communes, la royaute, furent contraints de s'y ac- 
commoder ; les eglises devinrent suzeraines et vassales, les villes 
eurent des seigneurs et des vassaux, la royaule se cacha sous la 
suzerainete. * * De meme que tous les elements generaux 
de la societe entraient dans le cadre feodal, de meme les moindres 
details, les moindres faits de la vie commune devenaient matiere 
de feodalite. — Guizot, Civ, en Europe, Lecon IV. 



6 EARLY ITALIAN REFORMERS. 

prehend. The world was made up of great 
barons and ambitious prelates, of troubled kings 
and tumultuous communities, of turbid thinkers 
and what our Chaucer calls "sheepy people;" 
all these were thrown together in one huge, 
tumbling heap, which feudality was to beat up 
with its "iron flail." Church became feudal and 
worldly ; government was made up of much 
despotism and little law ; so that the purity of 
religion and the knowledge of liberty were lost as 
soon as acquired. 

In most states the people were of no possible 
importance, but followed carelessly after popes 
in whom they believed, or lords whom they 
feared. No other destiny was clear to them 
than the destiny of suffering.* 

From all these sources, of good but more 
of evil, there sprang strife and destruction, de- 
sires and fears, almost without end. Men and 
things were all isolated. The principle of the 
age was feudality, and the real principle of feu- 
dality was isolation. The priest only was united 
with his brethren, his brother-priests, certainly not 
with his brother men. The noble, the burgher, 
and the husbandman were as far apart in pur- 
poses as if they belonged to different worlds. 
There was no unity of action, no unity of 

* E la povera gente sbigottita 
Ti scopre le sue piaghe a mille e mille. 

Petrarca. Canz. VI. 



EARLY ITALIAN REFORMERS. 7 

thought ; everything depended upon individuals; * 
each man was bound to his single work, but that 
work, in solitude or in the world, was not un- 
watched by Providence. There was want of 
repose, want of change, want of success ; yet in 
spite of contrary currents, the great stream of 
human progress was flowing on. State and 
Church, if we may speak so generally, were then 
first brought near each other, but their approach 
was only accidental, and they were again more 
unhappily separated, f All that possessed the 
power to unite these parted and isolated interests, 
was fanatical enterprise, not only in such as the 
six great crusades, with which we are all familiar, 
but in such as the Flagellants or the Shepherds, J 
whose wild enthusiasm was common to their 
times. There was even a crusade of children, 
ninety thousand in number, who, with some 
grown men and women, set out from Germany, 



* II n'y avait aucua moyea de gouvernemeat ceatral, perma- 
neat, iadepeadaat. II est clair que daas ua tel systeme, aucua 
iadividu n'etait ea mesare * * de faire respecter de tous le 
droit geaeral. — Guizot, Civ. en Europe, Lecon IV, 

t " That aew form [of society, followiug ' the destruction of 
the old Western empire,'] exhibited a marked aad recogaised 
divisioa between the so-called secular and spiritual powers, and 
thereby has maiataiaed ia Christian Europe this unhappy distinc- 
tion, which necessarily prevailed ia the heathea empire between 
the church aad the state ; etc."— Arnold, Preface to Hist. Rome. 
Vol. I. 

t Of which a brief and intelligible accouat may be found in 
Hallam's Middle Ages, Chap. ix. Pt. 1. 



8 EARLY ITALIAN REFORMERS. 

under the guidance, they believed to be inspired, 
of a child. They wandered as far as Genoa, but 
finding there that the sea could not be crossed 
by faith alone, they separated from each other, 
and were then, in great part, seized and sold to 
the Saracens as slaves. But this fanatic tem- 
per was far more savagely shown in the divi- 
sions which filled cities with strife, and families 
with misery. There is no better illustration of 
the spirit which prevailed in those passionate 
days, especially throughout Italy, than the story 
of Imilda Lambertazzi, the Juliet of Bologna. 
The enmities among the Bolognese were led in 
chief by the Lambertazzi and the Gieremei, two 
very principal families. Bonifazio Gieremei loved 
Imilda Lambertazzi, and was loved in return; 
but this "prodigious birth of love," far from per- 
suading their kinsfolk to reconciliation, so en- 
raged the brothers of Imilda, that they stabbed 
Bonifazio with a poisoned weapon, leaving their 
sister to die in sucking poison from the wound 
even such heart-devotion could not heal. The 
cruel death of that gallant lover, the vain sacri- 
fice of that true woman, and the tumults which 
laid waste Bologna, when this sad story was 
known, are all peculiar to hate, discord, longing, 
love, such as then made up the changing scenes 
of life. There was something wrong in chivalry, 
that it could make men brave but not excellent, 
women charming but not virtuous. Its influence 



EARLY ITALIAN REFORMERS. 9 

was to fill the world with noise, and nothing 
more ; and Livy's saying about the Gauls of an- 
cient days, that they were a people born for use- 
les tumults, [nata in vanos tumultus gens,] may 
be applied to the knights and dames of more 
recent times.* But chivalry professed great the- 
ories, and for them, at least, men may be grateful. 
If beauty or courage or piety could be followed 
ideally, they could be also followed really. The 
love, which was raised above all other things, 
was perfect in strength, in virtue, and in faith. 

Suche love is goodly for to have ; 
Suche love maie the body save ; 
Suche love maie the soule amende ; 
The Highe God suche love us sende 
Forthwith ; the remenaunt of grace, 
So that above in thilke place, 
Where resteth love and all pees, [peace] 
Our joye maie be endeless.t 

So in all things there was striving after ideal 
forms, which could not be seen without bringing 
light to eyes and hearts. Even to distracted 
feudal times, we owe many of our present fan- 
cies and present blessings. The grass grew 
again where hard-hoofed horses trod ; industry 



* [Chivalry,] " to me so hateful, because it is in direct opposi- 
tion to the impartial justice of the Gospel, and its comprehensive 
feeling of equal brotherhood, and because it so fostered a sense 
of honor rather than a sense of duty."— Arnold, Life and Coiresp. 
Ch. V. Let. 5 ; also see Hist. Rome, note to p. 476, 3d vol. 

t John Gower, died 1408. 



10 EARLY ITALIAN REFORMERS. 

sprang up where it was more than once de- 
stroyed ; * and hopes crowded close with fears 
upon men's souls. As the old French Chron- 
icler wrote Les Gestes de Dieu par les Francs, 
we can trace God's Achievements in the world's 
darkest years. Such a Divine Comedy as Dante 
wrote, such a Great Charter as King John gave 
to our English forefathers, were things gained for 
all ages. Little else than smoke may seem to 
have struggled forth from the shadowy mountain 
beyond the sea, but when we leave our day- 
light behind and climb up there in the night- 
time, we shall see convulsive flames, which in 
wilder hours, shone over earth and kindled 
heaven. 

The end of feudality was sure to come, so 
soon as its work was done and humanity was 
becoming mature. It had never been much 
more than a heavy chain borne by society for 
the sake of some sort of union, and when it 
could hang together no longer, it dropped, and 
was soon rusted away.f One among those who 
first taught men to distrust the claims which 
feudality, in Church and State, made upon them, 
was Abelard. Ardent, attractive and selfish, 



* Celui qui a, aura davantage ; celui qui manque aura toujours 
moins, si l'industrie ne jette un pont sur l'abime qui separe le 
pauvre et le riche. — Michelet, Introd. d VHist. Universelle. 

t Tout en empruntant la forme feodale, les institutions, les 
elements de la societe qui n'etaient pas analogues au regime 



EARLY ITALIAN REFORMERS. 11 

early risen and early fallen, he was himself a rep- 
resentative of what was around him. To the 
five thousand disciples, who sat together at his 
feet, he spoke as they had heard no man speak 
before, of great duties and great rights, belonging 
to their own intellects. Yet when they listened 
with throbbing hearts for words which should 
teach them how to work out together the truths 
he had made them believe, they could hear no 
more than the empty echoes of his voice repeating 
what they did not need to be told again. 

Italy was first * of all countries in the feudal 
age, although it was less connected than any 
other with feudality. The character of Italian 
cities in their early history, is very generally 
known to have been peculiar to them alone. 
Where nobles and priests and laborers were all 
living close within the same walls, there was, 
of course, fairer chance for justice, and even for 
some sort of equality, than where a people was 
scattered over a wide country, exposed to ad- 
venturous knights or marauding men at arms. 
Yet, strange at first to believe, there was no 
greater unity of spirit between different citizens, 
such as Florentines and Milanese, than between 
such serfs as dwelt far apart upon the plains of 



feodal ne renonqaient pas a lew nature, a leur principe propre.— 
Guizot, Civ. en Europe, Lecon IV. 
* Giardin dell' impero, as Dante was proud to call it. 



12 EARLY ITALIAN REFORMERS. 

France. The isolation which feudal influences 
alone did not bring upon Italy, crept within the 
walls of its city-commonwealths, and ruled over 
them as triumphantly as if they had been city- 
despotisms. While they were thus divided by 
barriers stronger than the Apennines, there was 
much to fill them with passion and violence and 
distress. The Church of Rome by turns over- 
shadowed Italy with fear, or brightened it with 
hope ; but as her better purposes could have 
brought abundant blessings, so her evil influences 
came laden with desolating sorrows.* There 
seemed to be contradiction in all things ; liberty 
dwelt side by side with tyranny, and the church 
was quite as much a den of thieves as the house 
of prayer. Still, along the Italian coast rolls a 
tideless sea, whose beauty might make a hermit 
wish to sail upon its waves ; and back, but a 
few miles from the shore, are deep-buried valleys, 
where man's spirit is humbled by the severe 
solemnity of a mountain-land. Great hopes, 
divine aspirings, heart-breaking fears, and life- 
destroying failures belong to the whole history 
of Italy, but, more than all other times, to those 
in which Arnaldo da Brescia, Giovanni di Yicenza, 



* Abbiamo dunque colla Chiesa e coi preti noi Italiani questo 
primo obbligo, d'essere diventati senza religione e cattivi; mane 
abbiamo un maggiore [maggiore ! ] il quale e cagione della rovina 
nostra. Questo e che la Chiesa ha tenuto e tiene questa nostra 
provincia divisa. — Machiavelli, Disc. sop. Tito Livio. I. 12. 



EARLY ITALIAN REFORMERS. 13 

and Jacopo de' Bussolari, her early reformers, 
lived and died. Italy was great, when Germany 
was shamed in the person of her Emperor ; * 
when Spain was but a battle-field for Christians 
and Moors ; when France was buffeted by her 
own feudal barons ; when our mother country 
was unhonored and unknown. Commerce was 
covering such as the Venitians with wealth and 
renown ; jurisprudence was drawing thousands 
to its fountain-head at Bologna; and art had 
chosen that ; rather than any other land, to be its 
paradise. Cimabue's devout pictures, of which 
a king f was fain to say, that they, of all things, 
had given him greatest pleasure since he was 
king, these still make us believe how high hu- 
manity did then aspire. Petrarch, trying many 
ways, but in few only succeeding, brings down 
to us the hopes, the sorrows, and the songs of 
his mysterious times. Dante, % the exile and the 
lonely-hearted, can tell us, now, why men were 
restless, when there was much to give them 
contentment, and unfortunate, when we behold 
so much in them that was glorious. 

One sees more easily what was to be done 
for Italy in the twelfth, thirteenth, or fourteenth 



* When Henry VI. stood barefoot at Canossa, (1077,) or when, 
just one hundred years later, Frederic Barbarossa knelt on St. 
Mark's Square, (1177.) 

t Charles of Anjou. 

t D'o?ni dolore ostello e chiave. 



14 EARLY ITALIAN REFORMERS. 

centuries, than how it was to he done. Popes 
were beginning to he too much concerned ahout 
mere temporal interests, to look out upon wider 
and remoter prospects. Emperors were soon too 
far abased in all men's eyes, to have any other 
influence than that of arms. Nor was it long 
after the beginning of this same period, that the 
liberties of the Italian free cities were lying, 
like corpses on a battle-field, at the mercy of the 
Signori, the Lords, who had every where pre- 
vailed against them. All the great powers seemed 
to have shrunk away, and men, more than ever 
individually dependent upon themselves, felt how 
sore was the need of strength, of spirit, of reform. 
The only active and stable element of society was 
in the religious orders of the Romish Church. 
They were to Italy of the Middle Ages, what 
Ephors or Augurs had been in ancient days, and 
from out their midst came Italy's earliest reform- 
ers. Their monasteries, hid from view like the 
Cyclops' dwelling of old, were filled with "sons 
of Heaven and Earth," busy in forging bolts to 
shake the world.* The works done in them 
would have been more perfect, had not they who 
labored too nearly resembled the Cyclops them- 
selves, in having or using but a single eye. So 
that the great purposes which came from them were 



* It is curious in reading two or three lines of Homer to carry out 
this comparison between the Cyclops and the monks of the Middle 
Ages. See Odyssey, ix., 106 - 1 15. 



EARLY ITALIAN REFORMERS. 15 

not always wise, and even the great deeds which 
were done through them were not always secure. 
Yet monasteries were sanctuaries of learning, 
when learning was most universally abandoned ; 
schools of policy, when times were most danger- 
ous ; and, above all, asylums of charity, when 
poor people most needed protection. The pro- 
phets of the Dark Ages prepared themselves with- 
in convent-walls to go forth and do good to their 
fellow-beings. 



II. 



Arnaldo da Brescia was born in the beginning 
of the twelfth century. The strife between popes 
and emperors was already at an end, but it had 
left lessons of liberty which were not wholly lost. 
Love of freedom began to take the place of fanat- 
icism, and all the more readily, that the impurities 
of Church and priesthood were swollen to loath- 
someness during the long contests with the Em- 
pire. There were anti-popes and anti-factions in 
Rome, short-lived indeed, but desolating as though 
they had endured for centuries. Nobles were tur- 
bulent and people were ignorant ; so that priests 
seemed to have their own way, when opposition 
was made to them by one among their own num- 



16 EARLY ITALIAN REFORMERS. 

ber. Arnaldo da Brescia's voice was bravely- 
raised against violence and immorality. He re- 
sisted, almost alone, the new claims his Church 
was urging to full possession of ecclesiastical 
property, which it had hitherto been content to 
administer according to early laws. " My king- 
dom," said Arnaldo, in memory of his Divine 
Master, " My kingdom is not of this world, and 
this shall the Church follow." He gave expression 
to good desires still clinging about men's hearts. 
Not only to Church, but to all society, he would 
have brought back truth and love, the corner- 
stones of Christian freedom. He was the first 
and favorite pupil of Abelard, whose teachings 
then attracted all the best among young Italians 
to France. But Arnaldo' s character was greatly 
different from that of his speculative and mystical 
teacher. He was a student, not only because he 
loved learning, but because he would make learn- 
ing useful to the world in which he lived. His 
studies seem to have been connected with the re- 
forms he planned, long before his first labors began 
in Brescia, where he took religious orders after his 
return from France. He preached of all things 

" that give the flower 
Of fleeting life its lustre and its perfume ;" 

but what most distinguished him was the manli- 
ness with which he resisted the oppressions and 
prodigalities of the bishop of Brescia. There was 
no one else who dared to rebuke Rome, itself, but 



EARLY ITALIAN REFORMERS. 17 

Arnaldo never feared. His pure life won him 
friends ; his great eloquence brought him follow- 
ers ; but his self-denying truth was soon a mark 
to many enemies. As early as 1139, Arnaldo's 
doctrines were condemned by one of those La- 
teran Councils which would have put down hu- 
manity.* He was declared guilty of schism, 
ordered to cease from preaching, and then sen- 
tenced to exile. Rejected by Italy, by his own 
native land, he found peace and usefulness in 
Switzerland. 

A Republican party had long existed in Rome. 
It recognized the superiority of the Emperor's 
temporal, and the Pope's spiritual powers, but 
did not know how to establish its own claims. 
Not only the people, but a great part of the 
nobility, exasperated beyond all prudence, rose 
against their pope, and so alarmed him, that he 
denied his own authority, and fled away from 
Rome. But he left his tumultuous subjects in a 
very unprofitable state of confusion and feeble- 
ness. Some among them remembered Arnaldo's 
name and teachings, at Brescia, and to him they 
turned in their own doubtfulness, summoning his 
presence and his counsel. He had been five years 
beyond the mountains, when the sound of these 



* Even as Dante said, although with an unlike meaning: 
Quando Laterano 
Alle cose mortali andd di sopra. 
2 



18 EARLY ITALIAN REFORMERS. 

faint and imploring voices came to him in exile ; 
and without hesitation he called some Swiss to 
follow him, and hastened with them to Rome. 
His energy soon breathed new life into hopes that 
had nearly perished without him, at their very 
birth. His objects were not to build up a democ- 
racy, but to form some sort of government which 
should be able to protect itself equally against 
imperial tyranny and papal wrong. A senate, 
already assembled, was by his advise increased in 
number and strengthened by laws. He made 
Consuls the chief magistrates of the State, and 
for their support revived the equestrian order, at 
least in name. All that he believed would make 
Rome glorious, he was earnest in planning, ear- 
nest in doing ; but although Rome, more easily 
than any other place on the earth, might have 
accepted the resurrection he attempted of ancient 
forms, * it was no time for the old Commonwealth 
to be renewed. The Capitol-rock,f was buried 
beneath long, heavy years. The purposes to 
which Arnaldo was now devoting himself, al- 
though chiefly political, were not altogether sepa- 
rated from more Christian reforms. The tumult 
and strife he found in Rome were, at his bidding, 
stilled. The authority he established was the 
authority of justice. The manners he formed by 

* duesta provincia pare nata a resuscitare le cose morte. — 
Machiavelli. 
t Capitoli immobile saxum. 



EARLY ITALIAN REFORMERS. 19 

his own example, were, although he succeeded 
but in part, the manners of a well-ordered people. 
He was the restorer of liberty, and the restorer of 
purity, so far as Rome was willing to profess and 
defend them. So passed eight full years. 

The first thing done by English Pope Adrian, 
after his accession,* was to excommunicate Ar- 
naldo da Brescia. Such an absurd sentence was 
easily resisted, so long as the Romans were faith- 
ful to him, who had done all for them. A few 
months later, one of the Cardinals having been 
killed in a street brawl, the Pope laid the city 
itself under an interdict, which he declared should 
continue in force until the man, who dared to 
oppose his will, was expelled or slain. One 
scarcely believes his eyes in reading that Arnaldo 
was driven away by the Romans, at the Pope's 
command, but it was really so ; and after living 
among these weak-hearted men, their best bene- 
factor, after giving Rome the peacefullest years of 
her mediceval history, Arnaldo went out, banish- 
ed, insulted, deserted, to take refuge with some 
country-noblemen, who were still true to him. 
Frederic Barbarossa was just then coming, in 
youth and ambition, to put on his imperial crown 
in Rome. From him, Pope Adrian demanded 
assistance in crushing the violent tumults which 



* Nicholas Breakspere, a vigorous and choleric English monk 
was made Pope in 1153. 



20 EARLY ITALIAN REFORMERS. 

broke out after Arnaldo's departure, and Frederic 
was easily persuaded to do the Pope's bidding. 
The nobles, with whom Arnaldo believed himself 
secure, surrendered him to the Emperor's officers 
sent to seize him, and Rome, senate and people, 
abandoned him to meet his fate undefended, but 
not unmourned. The preacher of virtue, the 
worker-out of liberty, the one true heart that beat 
with perfect love for God and man, Arnaldo da 
Brescia, was burned upon the Piazza del Popolo 
(1155.) His ashes were thrown into the Tiber, 
and the better hopes of Rome were scattered to the 
winds. 

But labors, like those in which Arnaldo died, 
do never utterly perish. His example, full of 
confidence while he lived, was full of consolation 
when he was dead. The Roman senate and 
people, unworthy such devotion as he gave them, 
submitted to the popes they could not resist with- 
out him. But in Arnaldo's native Lombardy, 
the same Emperor Frederic, who had sacrificed 
him to Pope Adrian, lost seven armies, one after 
another, in attempting to destroy all Lombard 
liberty, and was finally and utterly defeated at 
Legnano, twenty years after the death of Arnaldo. 
Lluomo all uom sobranza — man prevaileth against 
man. 



EARLY ITALIAN REFORMERS. 21 



III. 



It was in the earlier part of the following cen- 
tury (xmth) that Giovanni di Vicenza preached 
peace to troubled times. Naples was wasted by 
the tumultuous contests among her nobility ; 
Florence was the prey of blood-thirsty factions ; 
Lombardy was divided by Guelph and Ghibe- 
line wars ; worse than all, Rome had unsheathed 
the flaming sword, with which persecutions and 
murders were to be dealt out to men, in religion's 
name. Italy, always in want of repose, never 
needed it more than then, and to direct the hopes, 
which good men could not help forming, there 
came to many places monks preaching against 
unnatural war. The prayer of the age, like 
Dante's, was for peace. 

Giovanni di Vicenza, a Dominican friar, first 
preached, with any repute, at Bologna, (1233.) 
He was noble by birth, and young in years, per- 
haps not more than twenty, at that time. The 
eloquence of his days was a strange medley of 
sacred and profane things, but such were Giovan- 
ni's natural powers, that all the citizens and coun- 
try people of Bologna believed in what he said to 
them, and followed where he led them " with 
cross and banners." An old chronicle of Bologna 
declares, that " every man, both great and small, 
went with the friar, blessing the name of Christ." 



22 EARLY ITALIAN REFORMERS. 

He was able to reconcile the oldest enemies, and 
to reform the oldest abuses, not only in Bologna, 
but throughout the greater part of Lombardy. 
Every people, among whom he went, welcomed 
him as if he had been a conqueror, with all sorts 
of rejoicing and submission. The magistrates 
of the cities, in which he preached, brought him 
their laws to be revised and framed for peace such 
as they had not hitherto known. Another Italian 
chronicler describes Giovanni as one who, " pleas- 
ing to God and to man, made many preachings 
through cities, villages, and camps ; and with him 
was God." The scene of his greatest triumph 
was at Paquara, near Verona. One * of the last 
days in summer, four hundred thousand people, 
as some say, and certainly a greater multitude 
than had ever before been gathered in Lombardy, 
assembled on the plains about the town. They 
came, with magistrates and city-ensigns, from all 
the surrounding states, and most " for reverence 
sake," were barefoot and bareheaded. In the 
midst of this far-stretching crowd, their prophet 
Giovanni di Vicenza appeared upon a wooden 
platform, or rather observatory, built up ninety 
feet high. There he preached to them upon the 
words our Saviour spoke to His disciples : " Peace 
I leave with you, my peace I give unto you," and 
even iron-armed soldiers who were there and 

* The 2Sth of August, 1233. 



EARLY ITALIAN REFORMERS. 23 

heard him, were persuaded to confess the shame of 
strife and the beauty of love among men. That 
his words, however received, might not be forgot- 
ten, Giovanni proclaimed a universal treaty, com- 
prehending all the chief cities of the north, which 
was accepted with solemn pledges by their people 
gathered around him. He, a Happy Warrior, 

" Doomed to go in company with Pain, 
And Fear and Bloodshed, miserable train ! 
Turns his necessity to glorious gain." 

The spirit of war and wrong seemed to be suc- 
cessively exorcised; but it was only for a day, 
that the shadow of peace rested upon Italy. 

There are different accounts, touching the re- 
maining years of Giovanni's life, and it would be 
to no purpose for us to follow them in detail. Of 
one thing, however, there can be no doubt, that, 
the reformer proving unequal to his promises, his 
reforms were unenduring. To the great rise there 
succeeded a great fall. Giovanni became pos- 
sessed of supreme authority in Vicenza and Ve- 
rona, but instead of using it to the people's good, 
he grew lightheaded, and abused it, as we would 
fain think ignorantly, to the people's harm. The 
Paduans, who bore him some grudge, not only 
excited Vicenza to throw off his authority, but 
sent out troops against him, by whom he was 
taken and imprisoned. At the pope's entreaty, 
he was soon released, but we do not again meet 
his name in history, except in a few old chroni- 



24 EARLY ITALIAN REFORMERS. 

cles, that recount some missions, partly of peace 
and partly of church-persecution, in which he was 
employed by several successive popes, whose trust 
in him seems never to have been shaken. With- 
out forgetting that it would be great simplicity in 
us to believe all simplicity in others true,* there 
is great temptation to declare that the errors of 
Giovanni di Vicenza have been cruelly exagger- 
ated, and that he was honest and eloquent in pur- 
poses, he lacked wisdom and even perseverance to 
fulfil. The hopes he had aroused, were chilled 
and stupified by his fall. 



IV. 



Jacopo de' Bussolari is to be sought in Pavia, 
laboring there in love of country, towards the mid- 
dle of the fourteenth century. The popes, who still 
pretended to be Italy's protectors, were living in 
what the Italians called their Babylonian exile at 
Avignon, black with debauchery and bigotry. 
The free governments of the Italian cities were 
mostly ruined by usurping lords, Signori, who 
dreaded the people as much as the people hated 
them. Some faithful defence was made for lib- 



* La piu grande di tutte le semplicita $ credere che con la sempli- 
citk non vi possa essere falsita. — Botla. 



EARLY ITALIAN REFORMERS. 25 

erty's sake, in Florence and in Genoa ; but Pisa, 
Bologna, Pavia, and many another were subdued 
and bound to their own shame. Rienzi would 
have restored the old glory of Rome, (1347,) but 
he was neither constant nor bold enough to suc- 
ceed, and although his story is full of attractive 
interest, it is only magni nominis umbra, a shade 
rather than a light upon dark times. Jacopo de' 
Bussolari had a nobler heart and a wiser head 
than Rienzi ; but even his earnest labors are no 
more than a promise of all that might have been 
given to Italy. 

The Visconti, to whom most of the northern 
cities were submitted, resolved to bring all Italy 
beneath their dominion. One of the first attacks 
they made was upon the Beccaria, nobles, who 
had long governed Pavia, as lieutenants to the 
Visconti, and who were now allied with several 
neighboring families to prevent any increase of 
the Visconti' s power. About the same time that 
the siege of Pavia was began, (1356,) Jacopo de' 
Bussolari, an Augustine monk, was called from 
the seclusion in which his youth and manhood 
had been spent, and ordered by his superiors to 
preach among the Pavians, then a corrupt, feeble, 
and divided people, whose evil-minded masters 
were the Beccaria. Jacopo was eloquent and en- 
thusiastic, or he would not have been chosen for 
such a mission. He soon proved the strength of 
his mind and the piety of his heart. The chief 



26 EARLY ITALIAN REFORMERS. 

members of the ruling family came to hear him, 
when their example had been anticipated by- 
crowds of the common people. The friar spoke 
against the vices and diversions of the city ; 
urging upon all who heard him the love of free- 
dom and the love of country, which lead to or 
spring from the love of religion. His energies 
were not confined to his convent-life, nor yet to 
his pulpit-preachings, but throughout the siege 
which Pavia was with difficulty bearing, Jacopo 
was in the people's midst, their leader and their 
counsellor. The Beccaria began to fear his bold 
enthusiasm, and would have privately assassi- 
nated him, had he not been protected by well- 
armed citizens, who henceforth kept close to him 
as his guards. It was then Jacopo' s turn to fear 
the Beccaria, and to get them out of the way ; so, 
at his call, the people rose against their lords, and 
drove them from the city they had ruled, " as 
with a spell," now broken. The Yisconti were 
put in possession of all the fortresses commanding 
the Pavian territory, and the siege of the city 
itself was pressed with fresh resolution. But 
the citizens, within, 

More brave for this, that they had much to love, 

found new hope in the freedom they had suddenly 
won. The castle, in which their tyrants had been 
secure, was destroyed, and, as if from its ruins, 
were built up good works of government and pro- 
tection. The city walls were more strongly de- 



EARLY ITALIAN REFORMERS. 27 

fended than ever, and when the Visconti made 
peace with the lords, to whom the Beccaria family 
had been allied, they made peace also with the 
magistrates of Pavia, acknowledging the free in- 
stitutions which Jacopo de' Bussolari had led the 
people in establishing. Pavia was a changed 
place, not only in government but in society. In- 
stead of the quarrelsome, riotous citizens, who 
had abandoned virtue when they abandoned inde- 
pendence, years before, there was now a devout 
and peaceful people, whose lives were examples 
unto all their countrymen. But neither this peace 
nor this devotion was to last long. The Visconti 
hankered after the city so near their own Milan, 
and freed now from other enemies, they turned 
their arms once more against Pavia, three years 
later than the first siege, (1359.) The Pavians 
were true to themselves and to their friar Jacopo. 
They renounced luxury and indolence to devote 
wealth and energy to defend their threatened 
homes ; but unprotected without the walls, they 
could scarcely prolong their defence from within. 
While the Visconti' s forces were every day in- 
creased, and the attacks they made were every 
day more resolute, an epidemic disease broke out 
among the Pavians, making resistance altogether 
hopeless. Jacopo de' Bussolari, who had ani- 
mated his people in many combats, sustained 
them in their last defeat, and obtained from the 
conquerors a promise of protection to the govern- 



28 EARLY ITALIAN REFORMERS. 

ment and of amnesty to the people. The city was 
forthwith surrendered, and as the Visconti's prom- 
ises were forthwith broken, Pavia was not only 
conquered but utterly ruined. Its dearly valued 
laws were torn down, and a new fortress was 
built up for foreign lords to occupy. The best 
citizens were punished for their brief indepen- 
dence, by death or exile, and he who was first 
among them all, who had made no conditions for 
himself, when his people were subdued, was 
taken to Milan, and soon after thrown into a con- 
vent-dungeon at Verceil, where he died. But 
such a story as that of Jacopo de' Bussolari, 
however briefly told, is "glory, permanent and 
bright," to the land which gave him birth, and to 
which he unhesitatingly gave his life in return. 



V. 



Such were these three reformers, who labored 
single-handed and died undefended, as the ages, 
to which they belonged, required. It was not 
that they tried too much or too little ; that their 
purposes were different and their examples separ- 
ated by time ; but that the thoughts of their hearts 
could never be the works of their hands, so long 
as they thought and worked alone. No marvel, 



EARLY ITALIAN REFORMERS. 29 

indeed, that men doubted them and abandoned 
them ; no greater marvel that there were some 
who loved and believed them to be true. But in 
doubt or love, in weal or woe, their names, such 
as we have read, can never be " dead nor unprofi- 
table," while the stars shine above, and the world 
beneath them moves on. E pur si muove, and it 
moves still ! as Galileo declared at the very mo- 
ment of his own dishonor. The memories of 
Arnaldo da Brescia and Jacopo de' Bussolari, if 
men be not ungrateful, will 

" but augment the deep and sweeping thoughts 
Which overpower all others, and conduct 
The world at last to freedom." 

One of the clearest lessons taught by History is, 
that there can be no such thing as failure in great 
purposes. So long as truth and charity are joined 
together in human lives, there need be no fear for 
toil wasted or faith sacrificed. It is when truth 
is degraded to union with coarseness and violence, 
when confidence struggles into impatience and 
intolerance, that there can be no great purposes 
planned, no great deeds worked by men. 



JOHN DE WYCLIOE 

♦ 

1324-1384. 



As it is wryten in the book of the wordes of Isaye the profete, 
the voyes of a cryer in desert, make ye redy the waye of the Lord, 
make ye His pathes right. — Wycliffe's Translation. 



And yet in prizing justly the indispensable blessings of the New, 
let us not be unjust to the Old. — Carlyle. [Hero- Worship.] 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 



I 



A great man, like John de WyclhTe, speaks and 
acts in harmony with his own times ; something, 
therefore, of them must be known, if we would 
know anything of him. Not even the Poet, he 
whose language is most universal, can be compre- 
hended, unless to the reading of his poetry be 
added the reading of a little history. The secret 
of all labor is two-fold : inspiration, thought, will, 
comes from heaven ; sympathy, help, endurance, 
must be found on earth. God gives His blessing 
to man by joining together divine and human aid. 
u A host in himself," is literally a true saying 
about all great men ; but just as the Great Cap- 
tain does not fight his battles alone, so the Great 
Reformer does not do his work without some 
assistance, some influence from things and men 
that are about him in the world. It will not be 

3 



34 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

amiss for us to grope our way through some intri- 
cacies of the fourteenth century, before walking 
side by side with Wycliffe through his long 
career. The chief interests with which we are 
now concerned are to be sought in WyclirTe's own 
country. 

Edward the Third of England, a young and 
magnificent king, once summoned all the knights 
of Northern Europe to a tournament at Windsor. 
He had taken to himself the disputed title of King 
of France, and was determined to maintain it by 
strength of arms and abundance of shows. Chival- 
ry, in his early reign, was like a great fire, to which 
all men were bringing fuel, though most among 
them were sadly scorched by its blaze. The 
many vices and the few virtues, of which chivalry 
was composed, were spread through England, as 
through Europe, and it was a chivalrous festival for 
the chivalrous order of the Garter, which King 
Edward announced at Windsor. The commonest 
thing then, was, that every knight should adore 
some lady more particularly than any other, and 
Edward professed to be in love with the Comitess 
of Salisbury.* Once in a ball-room at Court, this 
fair Countess dropped a garter, and when the 
king, himself stooping to take it up, saw that 



* There is a charming story about the beginning of his love, in 
the 77th chap, of Froissart's Chronicles. 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 35 

those near him were smiling, he said good-hu- 
moredly, Honi soit qui mat y pense, and pleased 
with his own gallantry, he declared that those 
words and that garter should form his and his 
knights' device. The order of the Garter, still 
the great distinction of the English nobility, was 
forthwith established at Windsor, the royal resi- 
dence, whose luxuries were then beyond any that 
had been seen there before. Among many things 
there was a table, reported to be two hundred feet 
in diameter, heaped up daily with meat and 
drink for all common courtiers. Knights, of 
names no longer remembered, and dames, of 
beauty yet imaged in the faces of English wo- 
men, came to Edward's festival, with squires, 
citizens, and even country folk, to see and share 
long days of rejoicing. The tournament was the 
favorite expression of feudal spirit, and to the 
lance's point, we may say, were gathered all the 
extravagances of dress and adventure which 
marked the feudal age. An old monk has left us 
a sketch of costumes, which may stand as a sketch 
of all festival doings. There were " diverse shapes 
and disguisings of clothing, now long, now large, 
now wide, now strait,— and every day clothing 
new and destitute and divest of all honesty of 
array or good usages— all so nagged and knib on 
every side, and all so shattered and also buttoned, 
that they seemed more like to tormentors in their 
clothing, and also in their shoeing and other array, 



36 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

than they seemed to be like men."* It was a time 
when not only knights errant hut dames errant, 
armed with spears and poniards, were wandering 
about England. All society was full of shows 
and confusions and wrongs. The armor which 
men wore was an emblem of their lives, glittering, 
heavy and hollow-hearted. Man's highest tri- 
umph was fixed in tourneys and intrigues ; and 
woman followed, seeking nothing worthier for her- 
self than that man should live or die as she smiled 
or frowned. Chaucer, a boy still when the Garter 
festival happened at Windsor, gives in few lines 
(in the Knightes Tale) the whole spirit of such 
scenes where bloodshed seems to us to have tri- 
umphed over honor, and ferocity to have over- 
come the gentle charities of human hearts. 

We need not follow Edward closely in his 
French wars, although it is well to remember 
their events as happening in the time of WyclifTe's 
youth. The battle of Crecy gained by the Eng- 
lish over the French king Philip, was one for 
which no enthusiasm could, in feudal days, be 
unseemly. The feats of arms done in France 
were brave stories for chronicler or minstrel ; yet 
Edward's court at home was always splendid 

* It was not a bad rhyme that ran among the Scots : 

" Long beirds hertiless, 
Peynted hoods witless, 
Gay cotes graceless, 
Maketh Englande thriftless." 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 37 

as his camp abroad. The nobles of all England 
and of the large part of France, then in his pos- 
session, were gathered romid the throne of the 
English king. Every year seemed to set new- 
jewels in Edward's crown, and he wore it so 
well, that we need not be amazed, if men were 
dazzled and subdued. The English people trust- 
ed in their king, not only as their chieftain but 
their protector. Edward's heart was really large, 
and if he gave much love to glory in war, he had 
some to give to glory in peace. The name of his 
son the Black Prince, is ever chivalrous in his- 
tory : " Sweet son," said his father to him on the 
Crecy battle-field, " Sweet son, God give you good 
perseverance ; you are my son, for most loyally 
have you acquitted yourself this day ; you are 
worthy to be a sovereign." The son was then 
fifteen, and the father but thirty-three years old. 
Edward's queen, Philippa, was a noble-hearted 
woman, true to honor and to mercy. She was 
with the English army when Calais surrendered, 
and it was she, as we still love to read, who 
pleaded for the lives of six brave-hearted burghers, 
brought barefoot and haltered, to be slain for the 
defence they had made of their homes. Edward 
the Third was more inclined to compassion than 
most kings or most knights in those feudal days, 
and the brilliancy of his reign is not like a dia- 
mond set in rusted iron. His royal power was 
well nigh absolute, but it was used to the good as 



38 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

often as to the harm of his subjects, and to say 
this, is, according to the circumstances of his times, 
to say that he was a right-minded and popular 
monarch. Many of the older feudal troubles 
were cleared away during the half century of his 
dominion ; new provisions were made by him for 
the exercise of justice ; and the frequency of his 
parliaments is proof enough, in itself, that although 
he did much according to his own will, he was 
still ready to consult other wills than his in gov- 
erning his kingdom. Edward's reign was a 
national one ; his victories abroad and his mag- 
nificence at home were the pride of Englishmen. 
Even the lower classes, with all their miseries, were 
able to share in his harvest-times. He took from 
amongst them his soldiers and his dashing archers, 
and their "sinewy arms," their cheerful spirits, 
did him good service both in wars and festivals. 
The pages he fills in history, as chief among a 
growing people, are glowing with animation and 
renown ; and although we are not to call him a 
great man, because he was a gallant knight, we 
need not fear to recognize Edward the Third as, 
for his years, a good English king. 

There came a check to tournaments and to 
wars, when the great pestilence of 1348-9 fell, 
like a thunderbolt, upon the court and armies and 
people of England. Many old accounts are still 
left of the violence with which it spread from one 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 39 

country to another, "soe wasting the worlde that 
not a third part of mankind hath survived." The 
mortality was naturally greatest amongst the 
poor, who died by hundreds and thousands in 
close dwellings, which were like hotbeds of rank 
and fatal disease.^ But mortality was less an 
evil than the utter annihilation of all natural and 
moral affections which was brought about by the 
long continuing pestilence. We can read of sons 
forsaking their fathers, mothers flying from their 
children, friends sundered, crimes done in open 
day, defiance of man and of God, — and, after all, 
believe that death was better than such life as 
remained when the plague had passed away. 
The contrast between this and the Windsor festi- 
val is a fearful illustration of the separation be- 
tween the rich and the poor, the barons and the 
peasants of England. The people proper were 
divided into citizens who had something, and 
laborers who had nothing. The peasant had long 
been articled as a villein, or live-stock [pecunia 
viva] or even nothing more than land-raiment 
[terrse vestitus], and in either of these conditions, 
belonged to an estate, just as if he had been a tree 
to be cut or a sod of turf to be trampled down. 
Edward the Third's reign was also national in 

* Within six months, sixty thousand died of the Plague in Lon- 
don alone, and a new cemetery of sixteen acres opened without the 
town was filled, for some time, at the rate of six hundred corpses 
daily. 



40 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

this, that it was distinguished by the earliest 
enfranchisement of villeins, that is, of peasants 
enslaved. Just after the pestilence, when the 
number of laborers was very greatly diminished, 
are seen the first signs of relief coming to the 
poor. Wages rose, employment increased, la- 
bor, more needed, was also more respected, and 
the working people were then and thus set free 
from some of the burdens they had hitherto been 
forced to bear. But it is to be remembered, all 
through WyclifTe's life, that the character and 
condition of the lower classes were but very 
slowly improving, and that both were low enough, 
for long after this period. The " outlandish folk," 
as they were named, were like another race to 
the barons and even to the higher citizens. How 
they fared generally, may be better understood in 
hearing Froissart's story * of the sack of Limoges, 
a French city, which had rejected the authority 
of the Black Prince, in whose provinces it was 
situated, and as the historian says, " become 
French " again. The Prince was bitterly in- 
censed against the Bishop of Limoges, " in whom 
he used to place great confidence," and against 
the towns-people all, swearing that they should 
pay dearly for their sedition. To march upon 
the city, besiege and win it back, was the work 
of little time; and " you would then have seen 

* In his Chronicles, Chap. CCXC. Vol. I. 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 



pillagers active to do mischief, running through 
the town, slaying men, women and children, 
according to their orders. It was a most melan- 
choly business, for all ranks, ages and sexes cast 
themselves on their knees before the prince, beg- 
ging for mercy; but he was so inflamed with 
passion and revenge, that he listened to none, but 
all were put to the sword, wherever they could 
be found, even those who were not guilty : for I 
know not," even old chivalrous Froissart con- 
fesses it, "I know not why the poor were not 
spared, who could not have had any part in this 
treason ; but they suffered for it, and indeed more 
than those who had been the leaders of the 
treachery. There was not that day in the city of 
Limoges any heart so hardened, or that had any 
sense of religion, who did not deeply bewail the 
unfortunate events passing before their eyes, for 
upwards of three thousand men, women and 
children were put to death that day. God have 
mercy on their souls ! for they were veritable 
martyrs." This is a long story, but it must be 
made even a little longer. In the same city of 
Limoges, and at the same time, were fourscore 
French knights and squires, all but three of whom 
were slain or made prisoners. These three de- 
fended themselves with gallant spirit to the last, 
" and ill did it betide those," so Froissart con- 
tinues, " who approached too near. The prince, 
coining that way in his carriage, looked on the 



42 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

combat with great pleasure, and enjoyed it so 
much, that his heart was softened and his anger 
appeased. After the combat had lasted a consid- 
erable time, the Frenchmen, with one accord, 
viewing their swords, said, 'my lords, we are 
yours : you have vanquished us : therefore act 
according to the law of arms.' " And the knights 
were saved, just when the poor people of Limoges 
had been destroyed. It was well that bravery, 
even bravery in battle, should be so honored, but 
it was the more ill that helpless wretchedness 
should be so cruelly abused; yet such was the 
custom of the times, turning to the strong man's 
profit and the poor man's loss. The whole country 
of England was at the mercy of a stout-armed 
baron. One singular law, that the highways 
should be cleared of wood and underbrush for two 
hundred feet on either side, in order to break up 
the ambushes which were laid every day against 
the unarmed walker or rider, is proof of the 
troubled lives which men were obliged to lead. 
The knight had his castle and his retainers, and 
was strong against any common foe; but the 
peasant's hut was unbarred, the peasant's wife 
could scarcely be called his own, and the little he 
had was often taken away. The upper citizens 
were more secure and far more important. Eng- 
lish commerce was yearly extending itself, and 
the intercourse which was especially maintained 
with Flanders, contributed to increase not only 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 43 

the wealth but the free spirit of Englishmen. 
Edward, the king, was known abroad by the 
name of " the Wool Merchant," because his 
revenues were chiefly derived from taxes upon 
wool, the great staple of his kingdom. Matthew 
of Westminster, a chronicler of these times, says 
that all the world was clothed in wool, grown in 
England and manufactured in Flanders.* The 
English merchant, possessed of largest property, 
was allowed by statute-]- to clothe himself as 
luxuriantly as any noble in the land. This seems 
insignificant now, but it was a nearer approach 
to equality among different classes than had been 
made in those days. Chaucer again comes to our 
aid in his description of a Franklin, as we should 
call him, a Country Squire : 

An housholder, and that a grete was he ; 
Seint Julian he was in his contree. 
His brede, his ale was always after on [one] ; 
A better envyned [wine-stocked] was no where non. 
Withouten bake mete never was his hous 
Offish and flesh, and that so plenteous, 
It snowed in his house of mete and drinke 
Of alle deintees that men coud of thinke. 
***** 

His table, dormant [fixed] in his halle alway 
Stode redy covered alle the longe day.t 



* Tibi per orbem benedixerunt omnium latera nationum de tuis 
ovium velleribus calefacta. 

t 37 Edward III. ; that is, in the year 1364. 

t The sketch is longer in the Prologue to the Canterbury Tales. 



44 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

This is a jolly sketch, and makes one believe that 
the "good beef" and "good mutton" of Ed- 
ward's reign were substantial comforts. Some 
energy of spirit existed among the better people, 
in spite of the untoward circumstances by which 
they were bound. There is a story belonging to 
a little later period, about John Philpot, " a wor- 
shipful citizen of London," that he equipped a 
fleet at his own expense and went out in pursuit 
of some pirates, Scotch, French and Spanish, who 
had done great damage along the coast of Eng- 
land. He beat them in fair fight, took back their 
booty from them, and sailed home again, to be 
brow-beaten himself, and threatened by the King's 
Council, for having dared to go upon so brave an 
adventure without authority. But the London 
citizens supported Philpot with all their strength, 
and he triumphed over the government, just as he 
had triumphed over the pirates before. This 
happened, however, after Edward's death, or 
John Philpot would never have been threatened 
and abused for his brave doings. 

All this time, parliament was laying taxes, and 
doing little besides, because it possessed, in fact, 
very little power. The House of Lords was the 
king's Great Council, and to this fell the chief 
share in the government in England. The Com- 
mons were weak and ignorant, both in theory 
and in practice of legislation, and such few 
privileges as they possessed, were but poorly 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 45 

maintained.* It was forty or fifty years after 
the Windsor festival, and the story is more illus- 
trative of Richard's than Edward's reign, that a 
commoner, named Thomas Haxey, brought in a 
bill to control the expenses of the royal household. 
Richard the Second, Edward's grandson, was 
then king of England, and he, wild by nature, 
instantly demanded that not only the bill, but the 
person of Haxey should be surrendered to his 
pleasure ; and the Commons yielded both, with- 
out even a pretence of resistance. Poor Haxey, 
condemned to die, was only saved by the united 
intercession of the Commons and the clergy ; but 
even as the matter ended, it was to the loss of 
parliamentary privileges, at least during Richard's 
reign. Edward, more generous and more wise, 
gave much greater encouragement to the liberty 
of his people, and we shall have frequent occasion 
to remark the connection between Wycliffe's re- 
forms and parliament-laws. Edward yielded to 
the spirit which prevailed about him, and obedi- 
dence to him was obedience to national principles. 
Richard, his successor, set himself against the 
same current of progress, and was finally swept 
away, himself, after years of abject tyranny. 
WyclifTe was bold, far-sighted and persevering, 
yet he neither denied the monarchy which he 
found above him, nor sought to make a republic 

* See Hcdlam's Middle Ages, Chap. viii. Part 3. 



46 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

with the people he found far below him. Perhaps 
the reason of what seems his submission, or his 
forgetfulness, is already clear ; perhaps a few 
words more in explanation of Wycliffe's purposes 
will be required. 

No one can read the briefest history of the Dark 
Ages, without being struck by the confusion in 
which all elements of society were for a long 
time mingled. Great principles were then strug- 
gling together for life or death, and even as one 
prevailed above another, long ago, so are we 
affected and influenced, to this very day. What 
we are now has depended upon what men were 
in remoter times. One thing is plainly seen at 
the period to which we are returned, — the mid- 
dle of the fourteenth century, — and that is, the 
strife, which was warm between Church and 
State, divided then just as they are now, and 
differently represented, only so far as the pope of 
Rome and his hierarchies, standing for the church, 
were then the single adversaries of kings and 
emperors, standing for the state. Very many ques- 
tions follow close upon this simple statement, but 
for us they must be reduced to one, and that touches 
the separation, in character and influence, which 
existed between royal government and church gov- 
ernment so far back as the fourteenth century. 

The French historian Guizot, a calm, clear- 
headed man, declares monarchy to be " the in- 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 47 

stitution which has chiefly contributed to the for- 
mation of modern society, to this present fusion 
of all social elements in two great powers, the 
government and the people."* Such an opinion 
deserves contemplation and faith. We, here, 
looking upon monarchy, royalty, kingly power, 
no matter what name it bears or to what degree 
it may be maintained, think it all unnatural, op- 
pressive and wrong. No doubt but that it might 
be so to us, but looking after it abroad, in other 
countries and in other years, we shall find, if we 
keep our eyes open, that without the influence 
which this much dreaded monarchy has had upon 
Europe, we should never have become the great 
and growing people that bears the name of 
America. It is a simple fact to be recorded, that 
monarchy is a great principle, an honorable and 
a Christian principle, which has been usefully 
and nobly developed, notwithstanding many ex- 
travagances arid many cruelties which need not 
be alone remembered. This principle is the 
sovereignty, not of one man so much as of one 
order, one law. Law is king over all men and all 
things, so Pindar sang of old, and whether it take 
monarchical form as in Europe, or republican 
form as in America, it may always be believed 
to express the power of reason, justice and truth. 
Napoleon, when he declared himself to be the 

* Civilisation en Europe, Lecon IX. 



48 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

French people's " representative," meant this, 
that to him were entrusted their necessities, their 
rights and their desires. As Emperor, he was the 
centre of a larger circle than his own power or 
his own life described, one that comprehended the 
life and the power of his " great nation." Carry 
our thoughts hack to the middle ages, and we 
discover that monarchy may be taken as the 
principle of unity and of nationality, at the very 
period, when society was fullest of division and 
incoherence. Among all the movements of Eng- 
lish history, backwards or forwards, hither wards 
or thitherwards, in the fourteenth century, what- 
ever barons or clergy or people seem to have been 
doing, the king's power was steadily increasing. 
Nor is this to be deplored as hostile to the in- 
crease of liberty. That the wild barons were 
civilized, the greedy clergy purified, the poor 
people strengthened, that this was done, was 
through nothing on earth so much as the growth 
and fruitful action of the English monarchy. 
It has been necessary to say so much as this, 
in order to explain WyclirTe the reformer's un- 
willingness to touch the evils which were about 
the throne of England, at the very time when he 
was striking fast and far upon those which cov- 
ered over the Church of Rome. The pope's power 
and the English king's were in direct opposition. 
Just as the nature of royalty was temperate, 
national, and progressive, the nature of pope- 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 49 

dom was ungovernable, incongruous and retro- 
grade. 

The Roman Church was itself aiming at mon- 
archy, temporal as well as spiritual, but the only- 
end it could reach, hierocracy, or priest govern- 
ment, was actually hostile to the wants of much 
distracted times. Its theory was beautiful and 
holy ; its authority was to sustain truth and be 
sustained by truth ; its influence was to quicken 
the coming of justice and peace and even liberty. 
Yet all this was but a theory, and therefore a fail- 
ure. The ideal Church of Rome was one to love 
and believe ; alas ! that the real Church of Rome 
was one to fear and abandon utterly. Earlier 
reformers labored to purify the church at whose 
altars they would have still worshipped; but 
when their labors were all proved vain, and the 
promises they had trusted, were again and again 
broken, there came later reformers who, not con- 
tent to purify, would have destroyed all that had 
been built up in centuries of faith and sacrifice 
and falsehood. WyclifFe's place is between the 
earlier and the later. He took up the arms which 
others before him had laid down, and dealt some 
stronger blows than Rome had ever borne. He 
was neither the first, nor the last, who attacked 
popedom in the name of God and Liberty. Ar- 
naldo da Brescia went before him two hundred 
years; Huss, Savonarola and Luther came after 
him. No single mind conceived, no single arm ac- 

4 



50 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

complished the great work of Protestantism, and 
although we give the praise to Luther, there are 
other souls than his to which we owe our redemp- 
tion : Wycliffe was one of these. The course of 
reform has been, through all the world's history, 
a gradual course of human progress. As in the 
Athenian torch-race, one after another, bearing a 
lighted torch, has started for the goal, yet among 
all, none has borne away the perfect prize, for 
none has carried his torch lighted from the begin- 
ning to the end. 

Et quasi cursores vitce lampada trahunt ; 

and each one has left to us some of that light by 
which we walk in sight and faith. 

So, in the fourteenth century, the Roman 
Church was already proved unfaithful. Aban- 
doning its moral power, and taking to worldly 
ventures, in which loss was sure, it was soon 
reduced to defend itself against the distrust and 
the enmity it aroused. Its progress once checked, 
it was turned back to stagnation and noxiousness. 
Religion became, as Sismondi* says, "an instru- 
ment which despots seized upon to turn against 
the people," and in being turned against the 
people, it was also turned against all institutions, 
all elements, all interests in society. This was 
but the natural consequence of principles changed, 



* Hist, des Rdpubliques Ital. Tome iv. p. 369. 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 51 

of seeking after temporal rather than spiritual 
increase, of sacrifice to things of this world rather 
than devotion to hopes of Heaven. Clement 
Sixth, pope in 1345, published a bull, in which 
he not only set forth the merits of pilgrimages to 
Rome, but declaring that, if any died upon the 
way, their souls should be instantly received in 
Heaven, he dared to command the angels above 
to introduce his pilgrims' souls to the glory of 
Paradise.* The iniquity of superstition could 
be carried no further; and even in Clement's 
own time, such bulls as this were derided or 
deplored by all thinking men. A completer il- 
lustration of church practice and church prin- 
ciples, also, at that distant period, is the story of 
pope Celestin V., which is worth repeating here. 
At the close of the thirteenth century, some thirty 
years before Wycliffe's birth, there lived among 
the Abruzzi mountains, a poor, fasting, penance- 
doing hermit, Pietro di Morona, whose life was 
so austere, that common people believed him 
to have been born a full-grown and full-dressed 
monk. This hermit was chosen pope by the 
Roman Cardinals, who were weary with en- 
deavors to elect one among themselves, and were 



* Prorsus mandamus Angelis Paradisi quatenus animam illius a 
Purgatorio penitus absolutam in Paradisi gloriam introducant. 
The seare the very words of the bull, reported by Giannone. — Storia 
Civile del Regno di NapoH, Lib. 23, Cap. 8, § ii. 



52 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

quite ready to accept any new master they could 
hope to turn into a servant to their profligate 
lives. Pietro, the hermit, would have fled when 
he heard of his election, but he was taken to 
Rome and forced to assume the sumptuous service 
of his palace and his church. Poor simple-hearted 
man, beset by place-seekers and wine-drinkers, 
he could not even fulfil the temporal claims of 
popedom, and after five months' bewilderment, 
he gave up his throne to Boniface Eighth, who 
straightway seized Celestin and imprisoned him 
until he died. In his fate Rome stands exposed, 
full of ambition, worldliness and crime. 

The church could not change its place without 
losing both honor and dominion. Its chains were 
too weak, its festivals too insane, to insure human 
reverence or human love. There arose every- 
where a spirit of hostility to the pretensions and 
perversions of Rome ; in France with Philip the 
Fair, in Germany with Emperor Lewis of Ba- 
varia, in England with many deep-feeling men, 
whose names, at least, shall, by and by, be re- 
peated. Ockham, England's "Invincible Doctor, " 
was foremost in sustaining civil against ecclesi- 
astical power, and his promise to the Emperor 
Lewis, in whose service he died, is still to be 
remembered: "Defend me with your sword, and 
I will defend you with my pen." Nearer to Rome 
was heard the voice of Dante, speaking from 01 
his tumultuous soul, words at which Rome must 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 53 

have trembled.* WyclifTe came afterwards, bolder 
still, and dared to attack the Roman Church in 
all its strongholds of discipline and doctrine. He 
had a stern duty to fulfil, the duty of working 
out truth which other men were, as yet, only able 
to hear and perhaps to feel. He was neither 
without example nor without support, but his 
toils were lonely and uncertain to him, and to those 
around him. If we have, now, any idea of Wy- 
clirfe's country and Wyclirfe's age, we shall be 
better able to understand Wyclirfe's reforms, 
which can never be separated from the spirit 
about him and within him by which they were 
inspired. 

The Church's yoke was especially grievous to 
England, where popedom had never been fully 
acknowledged, until King John, terrified by bulls 
of interdict and threats of invasion, had been base 
enough to surrender his kingdoms " in Fief to the 
Holy See," and to promise an annual tribute of 
a thousand marks, (not far from 70,000 dollars.) 
In Wyclirfe's time, this tribute was flatly denied 
by King Edward, who declared his kingdom to 
be completely independent of Rome. To this 
Edward was led, not only by national spirit, which 



Di oggimai, che la chiesa di Roma 
Per confondere in se due reggimenti 
Cade nel fango e se brutta e la soma. — Purg-. xvi. 



54 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

marks the greater part of his reign, but by know- 
ledge of the position, which the popes were now oc- 
cupying at Avignon, where they were for seventy 
years virtually dependent upon the French kings, 
all enemies to England. The shameful vices, by 
which popes, cardinals and priests were living, 
provoked not only England but the whole Chris- 
tian world. Clement Sixth, the same who claimed 
authority over angels, was about as bad a pope as 
had ever been set above the faithful. He said of 
his predecessors that they had never known how 
to be popes, and seemed determined to prove 
his own calling to meanness, despotism and foul 
depravity.* Dante tells the whole story of Avig- 
non in a single line : 

Calcando i buoni e sollevando i pravi.t 

From out this southern city, so full of crimes and 
ignominies, that Petrarch called it a hell of living 

* Le peuple et la cour d'Avignon s'etaient fait des mceurs de ce 
qu'on regardait comme des vices chez les aulres nations. — (Sismondi, 
Hist, des R6p. Ital. Tome iv. p. 366.) Petrarch's description 
{Liber sine titulo) is still more rude : Ubi nulla pietas, nulla chari- 
tas, nulla fides habitat, — ubi tumor, livor, luxus, avaritia cum arti- 
bus suis regnant, — ubi simplicitas amentice, malitia sapientise 
nomen habit, — uhi Deus spernitur, adoratur nummus, calcantur leges, 
irridentur boni, usque adeo, ut jam fere nullus qui irrideri possit 
appareat. * * * Nescio, fateor, an illius impudentia an pa- 
tientia nostra sit turpior. Bibamus papaliter, drinking papally, 
was a common saying with all men inclined to extravagance or 
debauchery. 

f Or Milton, as briefly : 

" To good malignant, to bad men benign." 

Par. Lost, xii. 533. 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 55 

men,* there swarmed forth priests, like stinging 
insects, to prey upon men, women and children, 
throughout all Europe. Iacrassati, impingiiati, 
dilatati. — fat, greasy and swollen, as Philip the 
Fair called them, — they covered England over, 
sucking revenues like blood, five times greater (in 
1376) than the revenues of the crown. The 
priests and their master the pope were for having 
a hand in everything, interfering with justice, 
controlling marriage vows, claiming inheritances, 
and possessing all the valuable offices in Church 
and State that they could lay hold on. Half the 
kingdom, says the chronicler, was in their keep- 
ing, and they, as WyclifTe himself exclaimed, 
" were choked with the tallow of worldly goods, 
and consequently were Hypocrites and Anti- 
christs." In the old poem, called the Vision of 
Pierce Plowman, which was written at that same 
time, and especially directed against the corruptions 
among the clergy, are these three or four lines : 

" And now is religion a ridere, a romere hy streets, 
A ledar of ladyes, and a lewd higere [beggar] ; 
A prikere on a palfray from maner to maner, 
A hep of houndes after, as he a lord were." 

This is no exaggeration, or it would not be fit for 
our serious reading here. An Archbishop of York 
was wont to travel from one parish to another, 
with two hundred attendants and a pack of 

* Scelerum atque dedeeorum omnium sentina atque ille viventium 
infernus. — Epis. sine titulo liber. 



56 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

hounds. A bishop of Ely actually excommuni- 
cated some persons for having stolen one of his 
falcons ; with such a prelate, falconry must have 
been as much a part of his life as saying mass 
or preaching a sermon.* An abbot of St. Augus- 
tine had an installation-dinner of three thou- 
sand dishes, which were like a first course to the 
banquets and revelries which followed. A noble- 
man, Lord Morley, who had shot some game 
in a Bishop of Norwich's park, was condemned 
to do penance by walking " in his waistcoat, bare- 
head and barefoot, with a wax-candle, weighing 
six pounds, lighted in his hand, through the streets 
of Norwich to the cathedral, there to beg pardon 
of the bishop in most humble posture and with 
most humble language." This, however, is more 
characteristic of the priest than the lord, for if the 
one were so arrogant, the other was seldom so 
submissive. A quarrel which King Edward had 
with one of the Archbishops of Canterbury, also 
chief minister to the crown,f whom the king 
deprived both of his state offices and church 
revenues, is proof of Edward's independence in 
matters ecclesiastical as well as matters civil. 
There is another story which sounds more like the 

* One is reminded of a story repeated hy Hallam (in his Mid- 
dle Ages) that the monks of St. Denis demanded Charlemagne's 
permission to hunt as they pleased, for that the flesh of their game 
was good for their sick friars, while the skins could be used in 
covering the books in their library. 

t John Stratford, Archbishop from 1333 to 1348. 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 57 

pretences which Rome was making to absolute 
power, that a papal legate, who looked on quietly 
while some prisoners, taken in war, were exe- 
cuted, yet started fiercely from his seat, when a 
priest, convicted for great crime, was brought out 
to die, and, by threats and commands, actually 
saved the priest's life. Among these church 
swarms were several hundred thousand friars, — 
with whom we shall have more to do hereafter, — 
who pretended, especially, to be servants of God 
and friends of the poor. But there was no such 
thing then as friendship for the poor, excepting 
such as a generous king or a merciful baron or a 
solitary priest might give from a good heart. The 
clergy sheared much oftener than they fed their 
flocks, and men, generally, were wandering, sep- 
arated, struggling with each other in a wide and 
changeful world. 

Europe was just beginning to doubt the pope of 
Rome, England was just beginning to rejoice in 
progress, abroad and at home, when the great 
pestilence swept over Europe and over England. 
The misery it brought was so cruel, the desolation 
it left was so universal, that men began to fear 
either that the end of the world was at hand, or 
that Satan was let loose from the confinement in 
which he was supposed to have been bound for a 
thousand years. It was just the time for a great 
reformer to speak out what was in men's hearts. 
John de Wycliffe, then twenty-four years old, was 



58 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

a scholar at Oxford, following the quiet ways in 
which scholars love to tread, apart from the world 
in daily habits, but not apart from it in sympathy 
or love. WyclifTe's soul, we doubt it not, shared 
in the conflicts around him. He felt that some- 
thing was to be done, to be done, perhaps by him, 
and even in those dark days he began to prepare 
for the better days which were to come. Some 
years of silence passed ; deep thought swelled to 
lofty purpose ; the time for speech and action 
came, and WyclifTe lifted up his voice to declare the 
truth in which he trusted, and to which he devoted 
his strength and his hopes. The first profession 
of his purposes was made in a work called " The 
Last Age of the Church," published in 1356. It 
was chiefly to lament the pollution and demand 
the purification of the church that WyclifTe wrote, 
but in words like his, there were shapes to haunt 
popes, priests and men through all their evil 
doings. " The honors of Holy Church are given 
to unholy men ; Priests do eat up the people 
as though it were bread; men of Holy Church 
shall be despised as carrion ; the pestilent smiting 
together of people . . . the last tribulation of the 
Church . . . the final triumph of Antichrist, of 
whose approach God alone knoweth the period ;"* 

* Once for all, it is needful to say that the quotations which are 
made from WyclifTe's writings throughout this sketch of his life, are 
generally taken at second-hand, and chiefly from a work of great in- 
dustry, " The Life and Opinions of John de WyclifTe," &c. by 
Robert Vaughan, published in London, near twenty years ago. 



JOHN DE WYCL1FFE. 59 

about all these things, Wycliffe, young and un- 
known, spoke as boldly as if he had been a grey- 
haired prophet. It is plain that his faith in Rome 
was already shaken, and his hopes from the 
church were already failing. Old Chronicler 
Walsingham, Wycliffe' s bitter enemy, writes that 
"at this time there arose, in Oxford, a tempestuous 
individual" [quidam borealis], who was none 
other than Wycliffe. To such men as Walsing- 
ham, any reformer would have been tempestuous, 
but here was one indeed, to fill priests " upon the 
great deep " with fear. The loosely spread sails 
of their church would soon be taken in, before the 
storm, of which some gusty words about a " Last 
Age " were the beginning. 



II. 



John de Wycliffe was born in 1324, three years 
before Edward the Third came to the English 
throne. His birth-place was Wycliffe, in the 
north of Yorkshire, where a manor-estate, of the 
same name, is supposed to have been possessed by 
his family. Nothing is known about his earliest 
years, and nothing can be conjectured about them 
with any certainty, except that he was well-born 
and well-bred. His studies, which could have 



60 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

comprehended little more than grammar, were 
directed towards the Oxford University, where he 
entered himself in Queen's College, at the age of 
sixteen, (1340.) Almost immediately afterwards, 
he left Queen's for Merton College, and to this he 
seems to have attached himself until he went out, 
years later, into the world. 

There were things, present and past, at Oxford, 
to quicken Wycliffe' s growth in body and in 
mind. He was brought into connection, not only 
with hundreds and thousands of young men, 
students like himself, but with names and char- 
acters never separated from Oxford even to this 
day. Larger prospects were opened before him, 
and larger powers were expanded within him. He 
was learning from the Old how to plan, from the 
New how to fulfil. William Ockham, who had 
been educated, himself, at Merton College, died 
in 1347, when Wycliffe was more than old 
enough to comprehend all the energy with which 
the Invincible Doctor had combated the arbitrary 
and empty tendencies of philosophy. Crosseteste, 
of whom Wycliffe constantly and reverently speaks 
as " the grete clerke," had also been an Oxford 
scholar. At his death the pope [Innocent VI.] ex- 
claimed ''that his great enemy had departed;" 
for Grosseteste, although Bishop of Lincoln, had 
been a most resolute adversary to the evils of 
popedom. Bradwardine, from Oxford too, a 
gentle and pure spirited man, died in 1349. While 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 61 

King Edward's confessor, he was twice elected 
Archbishop of Canterbury, before Edward would 
part with him. He was a priest after Wycliffe's 
own heart. A more famous prelate was Fitzralph, 
Archbishop of Armagh, who lived at the same 
period. He sacrificed peace, home and life to 
waging war with hosts of friars, whom Wycliffe 
was soon to assail. These men were chief among 
those nearest to Wycliffe in time and in principle, 
and for their examples, 

" told in many place 
That they were dead for love and truth," 

came much of that spirit with which he was him- 
self filled.* Churchmen were scholars, and schol- 
ars were churchmen in Wycliffe's time. The 
great employment of men's minds was the scho- 
lastic philosophy, founded upon Aristotle and built 
up by generation after generation, into more fan- 
tastic forms than we can now conceive or under- 
stand. If Education be, as Plato said, the art of 
teaching men how to rejoice and how to mourn, 



* Other names may be recalled. Roger Bacon, the Wonderful 
Doctor, who devoted his life to the enlargement of science beyond 
the frivolous bounds, in which its strength and fulness were wasting 
away, died thirty years before Wycliffe's birth. Richard Middle- 
ton, the Solid Doctor, was one of the greatest theologians of his 
times ; he died in 1304. John Duns Scotus died in 1308, when he 
was but thirty-three years old. His name, the Subtle Doctor, de- 
scribes the character of his mind and learning, yet he was far more 
serious in pursuing truth than most dialecticians of the Dark Ages. 
These three were all Franciscan friars, and all belonged to Oxford. 



62 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

there was very little of it existing in the Middle 
Ages. The learning of the schools was centred 
in the trivium and the quadrivium ; one compre- 
hending the three greater sciences of grammar, 
rhetoric and logic; the other being made up of 
the four lesser sciences of music, arithmetic, ge- 
ometry and astronomy. How much of either was 
gained, even by the most faithful students, is but 
a sorry question ; yet men of learning wandered 
in other paths more barren even than these. 
Astrology and alchemy were favorite pursuits, 
and there is somewhere an account of two or three 
famous alchemists, who were imprisoned by Ed- 
ward the Third, that they might be forced to 
labor for him. Everything was mystical and un- 
settled; the intellectual character of the whole 
fourteenth century may be summed up in desires 
to escape from old methods, which hung like 
fetters on science, poetry and art. Nothing came 
at first from these struggles but confusion ; and 
some rough lines of an old poem [Pierce Plowman] 
upon theology, belong to much of the learning 
which men possessed in Wycliffe's days : 

" And theologie hath tesed [vexed] me ten score tymes ; 
The more I muse therynne, the mystier it semyth, 
And the depper [deeper] I dyvyne, the derker [darker] me it 
thynketh." 

Yet deep thought was not always dark thought ; 
and in the efforts which men were making to- 
wards light and understanding, we can see more 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 63 

to admire than to ridicule, if we will. The influ- 
ence of scholasticism upon Wycliffe is not to be set 
down for the influence of sluggishness. There 
was an onward and an upward movement through 
all the intellectual struggles of his times and of 
the times before him. The universities, all through 
Europe, were filled with students, striving con- 
sciously or unconsciously, against the foes of mind 
and the foes of heart. There was little peace in 
such lives as they led, and many among the old 
as well as among the young, were only "varlets 
who pretended to be scholars." } Wycliffe went 
through many contentions and many toils for the 
sake of the principles in which he believed ; but 
his life was as peaceful as it was possible for a 
brave life to be in such up-heaving times. He 
was greatly distinguished for his scholarship, and 
an earnest enemy of his doctrines wrote to the 
pope, "I have often stood amazed beyond mea- 
sure at the excellence of his learning, the boldness 
of his declarations, the exactness of his authorities, 
and the strength of his arguments."* Wycliffe 
proved his learning by his own continued labors, 
which an uneducated or an un gifted man could 
never even have begun. Another testimony is in 
the often-quoted words of Knyghton, who wrote 
just after W^ycline's death, with prejudice bitter 



* This was Walden, an English monk, who marked himself by 
active hostility to WyclifFe's memory, at the Council of Constance, 
in 1415. 



64 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

as gall against the reformer, and who neverthe- 
less compelled himself to acknowledge that Wy- 
cliffe was " the very most eminent Doctor in those 
days."^ But WyclirTe was not content with such 
learning as belonged to other men. He was able 
to meet them on their ground, but he walked 
surely on ground where they were not able to 
meet him. His scholarship was abundant and 
charitable, both in doing good to his countrymen 
and in helping him forwards to the great aims for 
which he studied and labored until he died. The 
earth was not then covered by "the still air of 
delightful studies," which scholars dream about, 
as though it were the air of Heaven. There was 
no deeper stillness in the studies, themselves, or in 
the contemplations that men pursued. The at- 
mosphere, in which WyclirTe lived, was too hot 
and restless for him to breathe gently or purely, 
and it was from influences without, as well as 
from impulses within, that the scholar became the 
reformer. But Avith him " the wisdom of love" 
had surely preceded " the love of wisdom." 

There were other bright lights about WyclirTe, 
which we may ourselves like to look back upon. 



* Doctor in Theologia eminentissimus in diehus illis. In philoso- 
phia nulli reputabatur secundus, in scholasticis disciplinis incom- 
parabilis. Hie maxime nitebatur aliorum ingenia subtilitate sci- 
entiae et profunditate ingenii sui transcendere et ab opinionibus 
eorum variare. Such an eulogy is to be remembered in following 
Wycliffe further. 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 65 

The poet Gower, born but a few years later, was 
among the first to make morality popular and 
poesy natural to Englishmen.* Chaucer was 
young still, but so kindred in many points is his 
spirit to the reformer's, that he is supposed, with- 
out other good reason, by several biographers, to 
have been one of Wycliffe's disciples. His cheer- 
fulness and tenderness, his clear look into the 
troubles of his time, and his clear voice in speak- 
ing of them, are all like so much sympathy with 
his great countryman. Such poetry as he wrote 
in the early morning of English literature, was like 
life-waking sunshine. The English tongue was 
then loosened, and then first employed in courts 
and books. Its use quickened its growth, and its 
growth increased its use. Wycliffe, himself, did 
much to promote both ; Gower set an example in 
his poems ; f and in Chaucer there was opened a 
whole "well of English undefiled." We cannot 
too clearly remember the harmony between Wy- 
cliffe's mind and the great spirits of his age. 
All this while, Wycliffe was living at Oxford, 



* His work was illustrative of the times. " Gower's book took 
morality out of the hands of the monks . . . and brought it down to 
the usual habits ... of the world. ... He put English poetry 
into a better path than it had then visited ; he gave it more imagery, 
dialogue, sentiment and natural incident, than it had been connected 
with until he wrote." — Turner's Hist, of England, Part v., Chap. 3. 
t As he said, 

" And for that few men endite 

In our Englisshe." ■ 
5 



66 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

studying what was before him in time of medi- 
tation and resolution, which we will not call 
wasted, because we do not find him in the wide 
world. Crescit occulto velut arbor sevo. The 
tree grows silent and shadeless to maturity : man 
dwells alone before the world's claims crowd in 
upon him; but the aspirations of a true heart are 
just as sure as the growth of a sturdy tree. Wy- 
cliffe went about barefoot, clothed in a coarse 
russet robe, with serene expression on his lips, 
and watchful seriousness in his eyes. There 
were many around him, fellow-scholars and fel- 
low-men ; yet he was scarcely one of them ; his 
studies were calmer and his thoughts were deeper 
than theirs. It was his life's spring-time, and 
the goodly reaping of riper years shows that there 
must have been goodly sowing. 



III. 1356-1376. 

The words which Wycliffe wrote upon the 
Last Age of the Church, resounding throughout 
Europe, declared the coming of a new enemy to 
the corruptions of Rome. He was thirty-two 
years old, young to begin such a work as his, but 
already prepared to labor for his earthly brethren 
and his Heavenly Father. He could not have 
known what was before him, but his purposes 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 67 

would shape themselves gradually, and when 
once plain to him, there was nothing to turn him 
from them. Such longings as his lead to concep- 
tions too clear and too earnest to be avoided or 
abandoned. It is unavailing to write, it is una- 
vailing to read the story of any great man, unless 
we seek to share his "holy desires," his "good 
counsels," and his "just works," all, by our own 
inner sympathy and our own inner comprehen- 
sion, apart from any words we write or any 
words we read. Yet if this be too much to 
claim, for WyclifTe's sake, we will not, surely, 
in following out his reforms, forget the spirit by 
which they were contrived, the spirit of a dis- 
turbed and mystical age. 

The Catholic countries of Europe were filled 
with friars, — religiosi vagabundi, religious vag- 
rants, as they are called in an old English statute, 
— whose practices and professions were in utter 
contradiction. The orders, to which they be- 
longed, had been founded in love of purity and 
morality, at a time when men were working out 
their passions in religious as well as chivalrous 
life. But when these early principles were for- 
gotten, when poverty and devotion were aban- 
doned for luxury and profligacy, when friars were 
all "like spiders," as old Fox* says, "sucking 
things to poison," then they became hateful to 
the church and to the people of the church. 

* la his Acts and Monuments of the Church. 



68 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

The friars were neither monks nor priests, but 
mendicants, preaching and begging everywhere, 
just such vagrants as we should put in our alms- 
houses, without much heed to the reverence which 
was really felt for them in other days. They 
were in the way of all classes ; of the priesthood, 
because they fastened themselves upon church- 
offices and church-revenues ; of the universities, 
because they interfered with studies, and corrupted 
scholars to follow them; of the nobles, because 
their pretensions were for democracy and common 
property ; of the people, even, not only because 
they claimed the people's support, but because 
they brought sorrow and shame into the people's 
homes. Grosseteste compared them to dead bodies, 
come out from sepulchres, in grave-clothes, and 
living, as though they were possessed with devils, 
among men. They had been assailed by Fitz- 
ralph, the Archbishop, whose name has been 
mentioned a little before, and it was to him that 
Wychife succeeded. Chaucer, in his impetuous 
way, held that 

" Friars and fiends are but little asunder," — 

and an old poem, called Pierce the Plowman's 
Crede, written in Wycliffe's time, describes a friar 
whose portrait belongs to the whole race : 

" A great churl and a grim, growen as a tune, 
With a face so fat as a full bladder, 
Bio wen brimful of breath and as a bag hung." 

To rid the world of these men was a Christian 
enterprise, which Wycliffe did not fear to begin 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 



69 



upon. He wrote a large tract, which he called his 
" Objections to Friars," and declared his aims to 
be not only for purifying, but for destroying all the 
orders in which they were numbered. How they 
had departed from their own professions, how 
they were enemies to the Gospel-spirit, how 
through their frenzy, the pope was raised not only 
above all civil authority, but even above the com- 
mands of Christ, —this, and more than this, is 
made plain by WyclirTe's " Objections," as it had 
never been before. Then, as Fox tells us, " the 
whole glut of Monks and begging Friars were 
set in a rage and madness, which (even as hor- 
nets with their sharp stings) did assail this good 
man on every side, fighting, it is said, for their 
Altars, Paunches and Bellies." Wycliffe had 
done a bold thing ; but he was quite able to bear 
all the anger and all the praise it brought upon 
him. Yet it was a hopeless reform to start with, 
for until the pope and his cardinals were convert- 
ed to it, the friars would never be entirely reformed 
or destroyed. Whatever injury they did to the 
people, it would be said in Rome, was more than 
balanced by the service they did to the church, 
temporally as well as spiritually. But a stern 
and solemn protest, like Wycliffe's, might, at 
least, give understanding to the people, and pre- 
pare the coming of that day, when not only friars, 
but popes and cardinals were to be rejected by 
half the world. 



70 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

These " Objections," were published in 1360, 
and by them WyclifTe was speedily known to be 
a learned, brave and single-hearted man. Thirty- 
seven years old, and a world to change, a gener- 
ation to set free from the worst of all tyrannies, 
tyranny over intellect and faith; this was Wy- 
cliffe's work to fulfil. In the following year, 
(1361,) he was presented by Baliol College to a 
living in Lincolnshire, and not long after, was 
elected to the Wardenship of the same college. 
Four years later, Simon Islep, the Archbishop of 
Canterbury, selected him to be the Warden of 
Canterbury Hall, a new college which the Arch- 
bishop, himself greatly distinguished as a scholar 
and prelate, had just founded at Oxford. There 
are some words in the letter of appointment ad- 
dressed to WyclifTe, which deserve to be repeated : 
"regarding the honesty of your life and laudable 
conversation, and also the knowledge of letters, 
by which you are especially distinguished, and 
having all confidence in your fidelity, prudence 
and industry, we do entrust to you the Warden- 
ship of our Canterbury Hall ; " words, which 
coming from such a man as Archbishop Islep to 
such a man as WyclifTe, are of no little meaning. 
There was great trouble from a former warden, 
whose place had been given to WyclifTe in the 
new college, and when Archbishop Islep died, his 
successor removed WyclifTe and reinstated the old 
incumbent, whose single merit was in being a 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 71 

brawling monk, ready to do all that the new Arch- 
bishop desired. The successive offices which 
Wycliffe held at Oxford are all signs of the honor, 
which was given him by those to whom he was 
best known. He, meantime, went on steadily 
and consistently. The course he pursued was 
larger every year, but its increase came from its 
own springs of life and energy. ^ 

There is some importance in connecting Wy- 
cliffe' s early reforms with the doings of the Eng- 
lish parliament, because, in that way better than 
any other, we see how the full strength of popular 
opinion sustained him. The battle of Poitiers 
was won by the Black Prince in 1356, and France 
lay almost at the mercy of England. Such vic- 
tories as Poitiers and Crecy, gained by archers 
and common men-at-arms, over feudal knights 
and their retainers, are signs of the people's pro- 
gress in Wycliffe' s times. How the energy of 
national feeling was impressed upon all English- 
men by these brilliant campaigns in France, may 
be easily comprehended. Its first expression was 
turned against Rome, in settling the matter of 
papal Provisions (appointments to church offices) 
by declaring, through parliament, " that the court 
of Rome shall not present or collate to any bishop- 
ric or living in England." (1350.) This was set- 
tling not only the matter of Provisions but the 

* See a longer note at the end of this Passage. 



72 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

matter of Popes, to whom Provisions were very 
essentially " the meat that perisheth." Pope Ur- 
ban V., (1365,) vexed and alarmed, set about 
saving his authority in England, by demanding 
the payment of King John's tribute, and of all its 
arrears for the past thirty-three years, which, a 
thousand marks a year, would have been no less 
than two millions and a quarter of our dollars. 
King Edward received the pope's claims, and 
referred them to parliament,* who, without any 
hesitation, lords, knights and burghers, pledged 
themselves "with all their force and power to re- 
sist the same."f Wycliffe was presently made 
Royal Chaplain to King Edward, so that his spirit 
and his works had already found favor with his 
sovereign. 

Wycliffe' s most earnest friend, at this time, 
was the king's third and favorite son, John 
of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, a prince of such 
really noble mind, that his presence among the 
histories of his period is sure to be welcome. 
Chaucer, whom we cannot quote too often as a 

* It is worth our while to know what parliament had done before 
this time, (1365.) One, so far back as 1307, had openly complained 
of the exactions and corruptions of Rome. Another, in 1347, ordered 
" that all alien Monks should avoid the realms by the day of St. 
Michael, and that their livings should be disposed to young English 
Scholars." Parliament also interfered in 1353 to prevent the trans- 
ferment of any legal questions to foreign tribunals. 

t The honest words of this pledge are partly given in Le Bas's 
Life of Wyclife i Chap. iii. 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 73 

chronicler, is supposed to have alluded to Lan- 
caster in these warmly-written lines : 

He was in sothe, without excepcion, 

To speake of manhood, one the hest on live [alive] ; 

There may no man ayen [against] trouth strive, 

For of his tyme and of his age also, 

He proved was there [where] men shuld have ado. 

Lancaster was, long before his father's death, 
really at the head of affairs in England, and had 
still earlier been honorably associated with his 
brother the Black Prince in the French cam- 
paigns. Hostile by nature and by policy to the 
corruptions of the English clergy, he lent all his 
support to the pure designs of the rising reformer. 
We can accept the generous character by which 
Lancaster was constantly distinguished, as one 
proof, at least, that Wycliffe's purposes were 
neither intolerant nor gloomy. He who was most 
magnificent at such a court as Edward's, he who 
was most humane throughout such changes as 
marked both Edward's and Richard's reigns, he 
who was Chaucer's friend, would never have 
encouraged the spleen or the sternness of a priest, 
no matter how heavily these were brought to 
bear upon the church already beginning to fall. 
Lancaster is called " the pious Duke," by no less 
an authority than the historian Knyghton, and 
there is nothing to hinder us from believing that 
the favor shown to Wycliffe was counselled by the 
heart as well as the head of this royal protector. 
When at a later period Wycliffe seems to have 



74 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

been abandoned by Lancaster, it is to be borne in 
mind that Lancaster was then living in retire- 
ment, unable, perhaps, to do much for any man, 
unwilling, perhaps, to do anything for doctrines 
which, he may have thought, were driven much 
too far for him to follow. Lancaster very likely 
deserved the name which one of the old chronir 
clers gives him, of "a faithful son to the holy 
Church ;" but with all his fidelity to the Church, 
it is to him that Wy cliff e was indebted for excel- 
lent support, when it was most availing. 

At the time of Wy cliff e's appointment to be 
Royal Chaplain, his name was already gone 
abroad through his own country and through 
other lands. He was presently called upon by 
some unknown priest, to defend the king's and 
the nation's refusal of the pope's demands for 
tribute money. He did not hesitate ; it was a 
work for the Royal Chaplain to do ; and in de- 
claring his devout affection to the church, he 
claimed for the king a full and perfect right to 
control all ecclesiastical as well as all civil inter- 
ests in his kingdom. Wycliffe also stoutly de- 
fended the Parliament for their resolution to stand 
by their sovereign, in a cause which was both his 
and theirs. Not unconsciously, we will trust, the 
reformer was approaching what must have been 
to him a glorious image, the image of a church 
free from priestcraft and obedient to national, 
universal and Christian laws. But the simple 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 75 

truth of WyclifTe's positions was this, that if the 
king had no control over the English clergy, he 
would have no authority at all, while clergymen 
remained in possession of high places throughout 
the kingdom.* A parliament, in 1371, made pe- 
tition to the king, " that it would please him that 
Laymen and no others might for the future be 
made Chancellors, Treasurers ... or other 
great Officers and Governors of the Kingdom," 
and state-offices were accordingly "removed," 
says Fox, " from the Clergy to the Lords tem- 
poral." In darker years, when all the wisdom 
men had was shut up in monasteries, it was na- 
tural that priests should be better able than any 
others, to manage human concerns, temporal as 
much as spiritual. But when schools were opened 
and wisdom offered unto all, it was time that 
clergy should be kept a little more to their own 
work, and laymen suffered a little oftener to do 
theirs for themselves. Wycliffe and the Com- 
mons were upon this well-agreed. His own words 
are these: "Prelates and great religious Posses- 



* " The offices of lord chancellor and lord treasurer and those of 
keeper and clerk of the privy seal were rilled by clergymen. The 
master of the rolls, the master in chancery, and the chancellor and 
chamberlain of the exchequer, were also dignitaries or beneficed 
persons of the same order. One priest was treasurer for Ireland, 
and another for the marches of Calais ; and while the parson of 
Oundle is employed as surveyor of the king's buildings, the parson 
of Harwick is called to the superintendence of the royal wardrobe." 
— Vaughari's Life and Opinions of Wycliffe, Chap. 3. 



76 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

sioners are so occupied in heart about worldly 
lordships and with pleas of business, that no habit 
of devotion, of praying, of though tfulness on Heav- 
enly things, on the sins of their own heart or on 
those of other men may be preserved ; neither may 
they be found studying and preaching of the Gos- 
pel, nor visiting and comforting of poor men." 
This is not at all exaggerated, so far as we can 
read ; men were priests chiefly that they might 
be rulers, and Wycliffe was not without reason in 
calling the greatest among them " Bailiffs rather 
than Bishops." William of Wykeham, the fa- 
mous Bishop of Winchester, born in the same year 
with Wycliffe, is a most favorable specimen of 
English prelacy in his day. He founded schools, 
opened colleges, built up palaces and churches, 
and was really a worker of good things. But 
not content with these, he would be Chancellor 
of England, "so high," as Froissart says, "in 
the king's grace, that nothing was done in 
any respect whatever without his advice." It 
is not here worth our while to enter upon the 
course of the factions which he is generally sup- 
posed to have directed, almost as he pleased. The 
Good Parliament, as it was called, of 1376, seems 
to have been made up of priests, or of commoners 
who may be said to have been priest-ridden. 
Their famous remonstrance against papal usurp- 
ation amounts only to this, that they would have 
kept all church-revenues free from other control 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 77 

than that of the English clergy, who claimed these 
for themselves. The impeachment of Lancaster's 
purposes, and the persecution of Lancaster's fol- 
lowers, were only brought about by a virulence of 
spirit, which we are here concerned to observe, be- 
cause it is a sort of introduction to the attacks 
which WyclifFe himself was afterwards obliged 
to sustain. Wykeham was always foremost 
among those to whom reform was a hateful thing. 
Failing to maintain simplicity and truth in long 
years of eminence and trial, he opposed all Wy- 
cliffe's purposes, and finally procured Wycliffe's 
expulsion from Oxford in his old age. A " Bish- 
op " and a u Bailiff" also! 

In 1372. Wycliffe was appointed to the pro- 
fessorship of Theology at Oxford with the degree 
of Doctor in Divinity, and the lectures he began 
immediately afterwards were received by crowds 
of scholars, young and old. This was the public 
acknoAvledgment of his learning. 

In 1373, he was named by the king as one of an 
embassy sent to Bruges, upon the old matter of 
Provisions, which, it seems, had not yet been set- 
tled to England's satisfaction. This was the 
public acknowledgment of Wycliffe's influence as 
a reformer. 

These may be called his golden days, when life 
and hope were strong within him, notwithstand- 
ing the fifty years which he had very nearly 
numbered. Honor and reverence at Oxford, 



78 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

honor and office in London, honor and love in 
that Lincolnshire parish to which he still minis- 
tered ; in all these there was rejoicing for what 
he had done, confidence in what he had yet to do. 

We must briefly follow him to Bruges, which, 
in the Middle Ages, was a " beautiful, powerful 
and grateful" city, renowned not only for its great 
lords, the Counts of Flanders, but for its wealthy 
and important citizens. Thither went WyclirTe 
with the Duke of Lancaster and some colleagues, 
to meet the pope's commissioners. At the same 
city were already assembled other embassies from 
France and from England, treating of peace under 
the pope's mediation ; so that WyclirTe was at 
once brought in contact with notable men not of 
Bruges alone, but of France and of Rome. His 
own mission seems to have failed, for not yet 
could the pope abandon his claims to the English 
benefices, and WyclirTe returned home in the fol- 
lowing year, (1375,) bringing back, at least, some 
new ideas, some new resolutions, by which his 
future course must have been directed. That he 
satisfied the king in the embassy, although its 
main object was lost, appears from his appoint- 
ment by the crown to a prebend in the Worcester 
diocese. 

Nor was this the only sign of the favor which 
King Edward still showed him. The rectorship 
of Lutterworth, falling vacant soon after, was 
given to WyclirTe, and a new vineyard opened 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 79 

to his usefulness. In that little town, eighty- 
miles from London, he passed the greater part of 
his remaining years as the " Rector of Lutter- 
worth," the earnest preacher, the faithful friend 
to his people. 

" A better priest, I trow, that nowher non is, [was], 
He waited after ne pomp, ne reverence, 
Ne maked him no special conscience, 
But Cristes love, and his apostles twelve, 
He taught, but first he folwed it himselve." 

This is part of a Parson's portrait, drawn by 
Chaucer, and often supposed to be taken from the 
rector of Lutterworth, himself; but Wycliffe's own 
words are surer : " Let thy open life be a true 
book, in which the Soldier and the Layman may 
learn how to serve God and keep His command- 
ments." Once more quoting the contemporary 
poet, 

" To drawen folk to heven, with fairenesse. 
By good ensample was his besinesse," 

and the gentle life he followed at Lutterworth, is 
in happy contrast with the turbulence into which 
he necessarily plunged while pursuing his rapid 
reforms. One sees in Wycliffe's writings a grave 
and constant desire for peace he could never find 
throughout his last troubled years. He deserves 
to be remembered as one from whom " the spirit 
of meekness" was not estranged. In one of his 
works,* composed " for the sake of teaching 

* Called " the Pore Caitiff," and containing a number of briefly 
but strongly written tracts. 



80 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

simple men and women the way to Heaven," he 
writes with much earnestness of " mansuetude, or 
meekness of spirit, whereby thou mayst encounter 
all the roughness and peril of thy way with the 
semblance of ease and mildness." And as he con- 
tinues, "this virtue of mildness of heart and ap- 
pearance makes man gracious to God and seemly 
to man's sight," it is good for us to believe that he 
labored, not only truthfully but gently, bearing up 
as well as he could against all the contrary influ- 
ences of his times, which made what we would 
call gentleness, an impossible virtue. 

It was twenty years after the battle of Poitiers 
— most of the conquests in France were lost — the 
Black Prince was dead and buried at Canterbury, 
— John of Gaunt, " time-honored Lancaster," al- 
though bitterly opposed, was possessed of chief 
influence in England — when the old king Edward 
died. (1377.) His reign had but a gloomy close, 
and his grandson Richard's, which followed, be- 
gan with a cloudy morning. The support which 
Wycliffe had long received from King Edward, 
could scarcely be given him by Richard, a heed- 
less boy; and from this time the character of Wy- 
cliffe's reforms may be considered to have been 
changed. Hitherto contented with new projects 
of church-constitution, he was now bent upon new 
forms of church-doctrine. The evils of the world 
in which he lived, were in continually increasing 
contradiction to the blessings of the world in which 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 81 

he believed. What he had already established as 
objects of reform, was the purification of the whole 
church, the deliverance of men from mendicant 
friars, the circumscription of the pope's authority, 
the return of the priesthood to their spiritual call- 
ings, and the progress of national or popular power. 
Beyond all these principles, and it must be re- 
membered how great these were in the fourteenth 
century, beyond was something greater and clear- 
er still, something to penetrate men's hearts as 
well as to influence men's lives, and Wycliffe him- 
self began to see that faith must be made simple 
and pure, before action could be made simple and 
honorable. 



IV. 1377-1382. 

Already, a short time before King Edward's 
death, Wycliffe had been called to account by the 
English clergy and publicly charged with heresy, 
in their convention held at London. They seem 
to have been greatly alarmed by the progress his 
reforms were making among the people, chiefly, 
but also with some high personages in the king- 
dom. What most provoked them was not that 
the reformer attacked the friars or denied the 
pope's despotism, but that he should dare to dis- 



82 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

pute with them, the priesthood, upon the pro- 
priety of holding state-offices, to which they were 
as much attached as to their sees or rectorships. 
So Wycliffe came to St. Paul's to defend his 
doctrines before priests and people. The good 
citizens of London, who knew less about the Ox- 
ford doctor than about their own bishop, were 
rather disposed to side against him, the more when 
they saw him come into the church with the 
Duke of Lancaster and Earl Marshal Percy, a 
nobleman of Lancaster's party, whose chief prin- 
ciple, it will be remembered, was hostility to the 
English priesthood. The Bishop of London, pre- 
siding over the convention, rebuked the noblemen 
not only for appearing there in such a cause, but 
for forcing a way through the crowd without 
much respect to the people or the priests among 
whom they were come. Lancaster replied haugh- 
tily, that he would do as he liked, "though the 
Bishop said nay," and Earl Percy bade Wycliffe 
be seated, " as he would have much to answer." 
" This," as Fox declares, " eftsoons cast the 
bishop into a furnish chafe," and he forbade Wy- 
cliffe to seat himself; at which Lancaster lost his 
temper, and muttered something about " pluck- 
ing the Bishop by the hair of his head out of the 
church." The people began, now, to take part 
themselves in this troubled scene, the end of which 
was, that the convention separated in a tumult, 
and Wycliffe went away neither accused nor de- 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 83 

fended. As if to make the whole matter an illus- 
tration of the strife which was between all classes, 
the people, enraged that their spectacle in St. 
Paul's was interrupted, got together out of doors 
and attacked Lancaster's palace, the Savoy, " to 
which there was none in the realm to be com- 
pared, in beauty or stateliness," doing great injury 
to the palace itself, and actually slaying a poor 
priest, supposed to be Earl Percy in disguise. 
The riot, after great troubles, was finally put 
down, and the magistrates of London were fain 
to " submit themselves" to Lancaster and demand 
his pardon. 

These troubles were hardly ended when Rich- 
ard Second became king of England. He was a 
beautiful child, and although only ten years old, 
he had abundant strength in the love of his 
people, who were proud in their memories of his 
father, the Black Prince, and glad in their hopes 
of a king so young and pure. We soon hear of 
WyclifTe again, as taking chief part in a question 
made by parliament about the great revenues 
which popes were drawing from the kingdom. It 
seems that this was submitted to WyclifTe's judg- 
ment, in the king's name, probably by the king's 
ministers, of whom Lancaster was far the most 
powerful. The reformer seized upon such an 
opportunity to declare the larger reforms he now 
had at heart. Appealing to the "principles of 
Christ's law," he decided for himself and for the 



84 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

crown he served, that " the Kingdom might justly 
detain its treasure for the defence of itself, in 
every case where necessity shall appear to require 
it." This was strong, but not strong enough for 
him who was laboring in the name of Liberty and 
Religion. With solemn emphasis, he says, fur- 
ther, " that the Pope has no right to possess him- 
self of the goods of the Church, as though he 
were Lord of them, but that he is to be with re- 
spect to them as a minister or servant, and the 
proctor of the Poor." Here was news to the 
world that believed in popedom ! Pride and lux- 
ury and vice shaken, like ashes from Rome's 
head ; this done, and Luther's name might have 
had no honor among men. But the time was not 
yet come which would give the world a greater 
freedom than that of speech or that of action, 
one that comprehends both of these, and more, far 
more, than is in these, the freedom of faith. 

The pope himself was beginning to interfere with 
the course of the bold English reformer. No less 
than nineteen articles of " heretical doctrine" 
were sent out to Rome from England, and to these 
three papal letters were presently returned. The 
letters, addressed, severally, to the king, the uni- 
versity, and the English prelates, had the same 
object, to prevent the preaching of Wycliffe's re- 
forms, even, were it necessary, by putting him in 
confinement or sending him to Rome. In conse- 
quence, Wycliffe was summoned before another 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 85 

convention of the English clergy, which was held 
at Lambeth, early in the following year, (1378.) 
At this he appeared without any reluctance, but he 
was then occupying quite a different position from 
that he had been obliged to assume at the tumultu- 
ous convention of the year before. Lancaster had 
retired from the powerful position he formerly 
held, and Wycliffe had no present aid from his gen- 
erous friend ; but the reformer was warmly sup- 
ported, not only by the citizens, whose attachment 
to his doctrines was every month increasing, but 
by king Richard's mother, the Princess of Wales, 
who even sent her usher to forbid the proceedings 
which were planned against Wycliffe by the 
bishops at Lambeth. They, the bishops, accord- 
ingly " became soft," says the historian, " as oil in 
their speech," and Wycliffe came out successfully 
from the second trial. He was now in his true 
place as a reformer, opposed by priests whose 
wrongs he was assailing ; sustained by people 
whose rights he was maintaining with Christian 
manliness. At this second convention, he made a 
solemn " Confession of Faith," which he declared 
himself " ready to defend even unto death." Wy- 
cliffe is often accused of having abandoned the 
doctrines he began to profess, as soon as he found 
they were bringing trouble and danger upon him. 
But in Wycliffe was no fear of man, and such 
stories of abandonment or recantation, timidly de- 
nied even by his later biographers, we will here ut- 



86 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

terly disbelieve. All that is to be found in the 
Lambeth confession, which can by any means be 
taken for a sign of surrendering principles, that 
were his in life and death, are these words : " In 
my conclusions I have followed the Sacred Scrip- 
tures and the Holy Doctors, both in their meaning 
and in their modes of expression; this I am willing 
to show ; but should it be found that such conclu- 
sions are opposed to the Faith, I am prepared very 
willingly to retract them." It would not now be 
discreet or charitable, to question the truth to 
which this single-hearted man was faithful. 
Cowardly, insincere, self-interested, — had this 
been Wycliffe, neither his name nor his principles 
would have any proper place in the history of 
liberty. The reforms he declared, were gradual 
growth from one and the same stock of deep- 
fixed Christianity. When the wealth, the minis- 
ters, the outer forces of popedom had been shaken, 
it was Wycliffe' s next object to set forth some new 
principles to take place of the old. Reform means 
much more than ruin ; it accepts elements which 
are indispensable to all humanity, but gives them 
new beauty, new nature even, by changing the 
moulds in which they may hitherto have been 
carelessly or sinfully cast. Wycliffe' s work was 
not only to pull down, but to build up, not only to 
destroy, but to renew, and how this building up, 
this renewal was to be accomplished, it is quite 
time for us to inquire. 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 87 

His reforms were broached sometimes singly, 
sometimes in overrunning measure, but the same 
warmth, the same fulness was in them all, taken 
together or taken one by one. Mostly they may 
be drawn from the confession he made at Lam- 
beth, before the Clergy of England, and such as we 
have found, we will here accept as the worthiest 
offering to Wycliffe's memory. It is to be observed, 
at least, that the reforms they express are reforms 
of theory as well as practice, of doctrine as well 
as discipline. The principle of renewal, that is, 
of real reform, lies in the heart ; it must be touch- 
ed by faith, or it may sleep beneath falsehood for- 
ever ; it must spring up in sincerity, or it will 
grow to be not a fruit but a poison unto men. 
Deep as it was vouchsafed to Wycliffe to see into 
human consciences, deep as he could, he looked 
with anxious eye. His love for all men was stead- 
fast, and in this he had inspiration. His compre- 
hension of the difficulties under which all men 
were obliged to labor, was large-minded, and in 
this he had security. What came from his know- 
ledge and his charity not only to men around him, 
but through them, to men after him, it is, or ought 
to be, our wish to comprehend. In this we must 
be assisted by these following doctrines. 

In the first place, Wycliffe would set some 
bounds to the spiritual power of popedom. " Man 
can only be excommunicated by himself. .... 
Popes can only loose or bind by conforming them- 



88 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

selves to Christ's law. ... A curse or an ex- 
communication availeth only against Christ's 
adversaries." Such words as these, like light to 
night-weary souls, came swift to chase away the 
darkness and the heaviness of papal dominion. 

In the second place, Wycliffe would have denied 
the action of spiritual upon temporal power. 
" Christ's disciples," he said, " have no power to 
exact temporal things by spiritual censures," and 
in saying this, he would have set kings and sub- 
jects, governments and peoples, free from the un- 
just authority which Rome had long exercised. 

In the third place, it was Wycliffe' s object to 
control the pope's temporal power, against which 
he had protested from the very beginning of his 
career. " The whole human race, since Christ, 
hath no power to ordain that Peter and his kind 
[omne genus suum] rule perpetually and politically 
over the world." Here arises the same image, of 
which we once before had a glimpse in Wycliffe' s 
principles, a church governed not by priests, but by 
God's laws. Yet, whatever was concealed, there 
was much made clear to the fourteenth century, 
in this denial of church-empire. 

In the fourth place, we discover Wycliffe's great 
doctrine of the Clergy's accountability to all men. 
" A Priest, yea. a Roman Pope, may be lawfully 
accused, and brought to trial by Laymen. . . . 
Temporal lords may, lawfully and meritorious- 
ly, deprive a delinquent Church of its property, 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. S9 

or a corrupt Pristhood of their temporal posses- 
sions." Here was a whole host of reforms in one, 
— priestcraft controlled, corruption put away, so- 
ciety freed, government purified, church depend- 
ent upon state, — here, in these simple phrases, 
were justice and purity, such as were not yet 
accepted among men. 

These four were the great principles of Wy- 
cliffe's latest and largest reforms. The pope's 
power was to become spiritual and true, the pope's 
church was to become just and pure ; and such 
promises fulfilled, the world would be wider and 
freer and holier. Deny what Wycliffe affirms, 
or affirm what he denies, and the difference to us, 
to the six centuries before us, to the countless cen- 
turies after us, is immeasurable. 

On matters of less importance, his opinions may 
be very briefly described. The aims towards 
which they tended were the same in character, 
that is, in simplicity and holiness, but were, never- 
theless, quite subordinate in strength and influ- 
ence, to those which have been already unfold- 
ed. He would have done away with the Roman 
hierarchy, by reducing all its orders to two, 
priests and deacons, and freeing these from the 
unnatural obligation to celibacy. He would have 
made the worship of God a simple and an under- 
standing sacrifice, by clearing it from image- wor- 
ship, saint- worship, and all unnecessary mysteries, 
especially the one of transubstantiation, which 



90 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

had been finally established in the church, only 
a hundred and fifty years before. He would have 
controlled and purified the clergy's influence, by 
abolishing confession, indulgence, pilgrimages, 
even tithes, — and so "watching in all things," 
and "making full proof of his ministry," WyclifTe 
shaped and perfected his great reforms. 

" Blest be the Architect, whose art 
Could build so strong in a weak heart." 

There was danger around the reformer ; some 
plans against him he could see and hinder ; some 
there were, and he knew it, that might be ended 
only in his martyrdom. But to these reforms of 
his, to the principles of which these were the ex- 
pression, to one and to all, he clung as to his help 
here and his hope hereafter. " As all ought to 
be," he said, " the Soldiers of Christ, it is evident 
how many are condemned by their sloth, who let 
the fear of the loss of temporal benefits or worldly 
friendships, or of the welfare of the body, make 
them unfaithful in the cause of God, or averse to 
stand manlily by it, even to death, if necessary." 
He was a true man, a Protestant against the sin 
and the shame of Rome, a reformer and a bene- 
factor to England, to the whole Christian world. 
We sit upon green turf, beneath the shade of 
peaceful leaves ; but we have still the heart to 
remember that there was neither turf nor shade, 
until Heaven poured its showers and its sun- 
shine upon him who labored for man and for God. 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 91 

Wycliffe's greatest work upon the Scriptures is 
yet to be told. 

Meanwhile, a sad schism had broken into the 
church ; the cardinals were divided ; one pope 
was ruling in Rome, another in Avignon, (1378.) 
The whole world, ashamed and despairing, was 
still silent and afraid, when Wycliffe spoke out 
what other men were content to bury in their dis- 
tracted hearts. "It is the Pope's sin, so long con- 
tinued, that has brought on this division. . . . 
This man feedeth not the sheep of Christ, as 
Christ thrice commanded Peter ; he spoileth them, 
and slayeth them, and leadeth them many wrong 
ways. . . . Emperors and Kings should help in 
this cause, to maintain God's Law, to recover the 
heritage of the Church and to destroy the sins of 
Clerks, always saving their persons." It was 
hard to see what would come from this double- 
headed popedom, or while it lasted, what could be 
believed not of one only, but of two popes infal- 
lible and immovable. A reformer, like Wycliffe, 
had busy thoughts to deal with at such a time, but 
whether he was able to comprehend, that this 
papal schism would force the clergy of different 
countries to depend more upon the king and less 
upon the pope, and therefore bring all men nearer 
to his universal church, we cannot now be very 
sure. The same tendency is to be discovered in 
the closely following struggles by which England, 



92 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

like its own lion, " pawing to set free its hinder 
parts," was all convulsed, in the early part of 
Richard the Second's reign. 

King Richard was himself inclined to favor 
Wycliffe's doctrines, not because he was an ear- 
nest or a national sovereign, for he was still a 
child in years ; but because he had been taught 
to dislike the English clergy, and to wish especi- 
ally to humble them. The necessities and ex- 
travagancies of his reign, charged to his council- 
lors rather than to him, offended the people to such 
hatred, that the rebellion of 1381, Wat Tyler's re- 
bellion, broke out, as if taxation and misery were 
so to be relieved. Froissart says, that this came 
from " the too great comfort of the commonalty ;" 
Walsingham remarks that it was brought about 
by " the general depravity of the people :" but the 
people, or the commons themselves, declare that 
" to speak the truth, these injuries lately done to 
the poorer commons, more than they ever suffered 
before, caused them to rise and commit these mis- 
chiefs." When one reads that ten thousand guests 
were daily fed at Richard's royal table, it seems 
not only as if there were no luxury so great that 
it might not be found at the court of such a king, 
but besides, as if there were little difficulty in 
comprehending the causes and the objects even of 
an ignorant rebellion. 

" Grete taxe the kynge aie toke thrugh the lande, 
For whiche comons him hated free and bonde." 

Hardyng's Chron. 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 93 

Yet Wycliffe is dragged into chronicles as having 
excited the poor people of England to do them- 
selves violent justice, and he is constantly charged 
if not with preaching sedition in plain words, at 
least with preaching what must have led to se- 
dition through the spirit he was secretly awakening 
among his countrymen. The only trace of Wy- 
cliffe which is to be found in the history of Wat 
Tyler's insurrection is, that there was a notorious 
priest, named John Ball, who put himself at the 
head of armed peasants, and discoursed to them 
by day or night, upon the great things they were 
to gain. His text and his people's was in this old 
rhyme : 

" When Adam delved and Eve span, 
Where was then the gentleman ?" 

But whether this priest were, or, as is far more 
probable, were not one of Wycliffe' s disciples, it 
is quite unnatural to imagine that a man so rea- 
sonable, even in his greatest convictions, as Wy- 
cliffe generally kept himself, should have preached 
rebellion to a people he knew to be quite incapa- 
ble of accomplishing any great purposes. Neither 
do such purposes as were driven to end in such 
rebellion deserve to be called great, no matter by 
whom proposed or by whom followed. It was 
not the time, in that fourteenth century, when all 
men could have justice done them ; and how- 
ever much we may mourn the wrongs which 
were resisted by the peasants of France, in the 



£4 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

Jacquerie, or by the peasants of England, in their 
insurrection of 1381, the passions to which these 
peasants themselves yielded, are so many reasons 
why their insurrections failed, why they ought to 
have failed. Yet it would be uncharitable to 
deny the justice that there was in the demands 
of the rebels, who followed Wat Tyler. " We 
wish," said some, in a crowd of sixty thousand, 
among whom Richard the king had ventured to 
go, " we wish thou wouldst make us free for ever, 
us, our heirs and our lands, and that we should no 
longer be called slaves nor held in bondage."* 
Had they been content to make such honest 
claims as these, their cause would have prospered, 
to the joy of all true hearts like Wycliffe's. But 
they were bent on proving the freedom they chose, 
to be one of hateful outrage, and their demands 
of relief were so written in blood, so branded with 
fire, that it would be hard not to be glad with 
Richard when he " had regained his inheritance 
and the kingdom of England which he had lost." 
One thing more is to be remembered, that neither 
John Ball, nor Wat Tyler, nor their followers, left 
any chronicler to tell their own story. It is not 
our part to shut out WyclifTe from all share in the 
sorrows of his countrymen, or to defend him for 
wishing neither to see them slaves nor monsters. 



* In the 2d part of Froissart, Chap. 76. See also Sir James 
Mackintosh's Hist, of England, Vol. i. p. 319. 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 95 

King Richard was young and thriftless, but 
he neither lost his crown nor his taxes, until he 
had made worse enemies than appeared against 
him in Wycliffe's life- time. Some of his wants, 
the clergy alone seemed able to supply, and to- 
wards them his favor was now directed through 
his councillors; while they, the clergy, alarmed 
by schisms, rebellions and reforms, were glad to 
have the king on their side, even though they 
knew his protection must be paid from their own 
church-revenues. This, then, was the fresh 
source of injustice which Wycliffe saw opening 
before him ; he was almost alone ; king, nobles 
and priests were united against his heart-desires ; 
the people were powerless and, one may even say, 
indifferent; but Wycliffe would have stood firm 
in the midst of greater changes and greater weak- 
nesses than these. Etiamsi omnes ego non; 
were all against reform, renewal, truth, he would 
labor for them alone. At this very time, or rather 
a little before, he fell ill at Oxford, and was 
thought to be at death's door. Some Oxford 
friars came to his sick-chamber, and besought him 
in that awful hour which seemed to have come 
upon him, to confess the falsehood of the doctrines 
he had preached against them. He listened to 
them as patiently as if he were too weak to an- 
swer ; but when they ceased, he bade his attend- 
ants raise him in his bed, and exclaimed as 
earnestly as though he had been in his pulpit, " I 



96 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

shall not die, but shall live and again declare the 
friars' evil deeds." With such resolution, he 
recovered and continued to speak and act from 
the same honest, fearless soul. One of his doc- 
trines upon the Eucharist, — that " the Host upon 
the altar is neither Christ nor any part of Christ, 
but an efficacious sign of him," — was presently 
condemned by some of the Oxford doctors who 
were opposed to anything like simplicity or reform. 
Wycliffe was lecturing from his professor's chair, 
surrounded by young men who admired him if 
they did not all feel for him, when he was inter- 
rupted by a messenger from the chancellor and 
the doctors, who declared their sentence upon his 
condemned doctrine, and, further, their prohibition 
of his preaching it longer, under pain of suspen- 
sion from university privileges, nay, even impris- 
onment and excommunication. Wycliffe paused, 
surprised but not subdued. "I do declare," in 
words like these he almost instantly exclaimed, 
"I do declare the truth of what I have uttered 
and maintained ; and in the matter of this sen- 
tence which ye have heard as well as I, against 
this do I appeal from Oxford doctors, yea, from 
the very Pope of Rome to the Sovereign King of 
England." In this he was in earnest; and al- 
though delayed, by the Duke of Lancaster's 
influence, from making the appeal immediately, 
it was made, as we shall see, at a little later 
period, to King and People also. We would not 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 97 

forget that such a step was in his days as new 
and bold, as if he had undertaken to leap from 
old St. Paul's to one of the Windsor towers. 

It would not be fair to say that WyclifTe was 
alone in laboring for reform. There were many, 
in Oxford University itself, to stand by him, in 
spite of threats or sentences, among whom the 
newly appointed chancellor himself, Robert Rigge, 
and several doctors, Nicholas Hereford, William 
Brightwell, Ralph Reppington, are especially to 
be named. Out of Oxford, WyclifTe had still 
warmer support. John of Northampton, a famous 
mayor of London, was a fast friend to the re- 
former, and did many good deeds, that we 
may suppose were inspired by WyclifTe' s prin- 
ciples.* Higher friends yet to WyclifTe were the 
Queen, Anne of Bohemia, whom Richard had 
just espoused, Richard's mother, the Princess of 
Wales, and Richard's uncle, the Duke of Glou- 
cester. The king, himself, if we may still con- 
cern ourselves for him, was, for the moment, 
leaning upon the priesthood, and therefore ill-dis- 
posed to bear with any reforms ; but the favor of 
such a boyish and capricious king as Richard, 



* He was particularly earnest in putting an end to the debauch- 
eries and crimes which he found in London, and which he took upon 
himself to punish, although the clergy, in their ecclesiastical courts, 
claimed complete jurisdiction over all offences that were not purely 
civil. Walsingham, the chronicler, sets this down as London inso- 
lence, but John of Northampton was supported by all good citizens. 
7 



98 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

was worth little either to priesthood or reformer. 
There was, however, much hesitation among all 
classes, but particularly among the higher, to 
support doctrines which were so strange to them 
as those of WyclifTe's later reforms. One of his 
declarations, such as this, that "a Pope, Bishop 
or Priest, in a state of mortal sin, hath no power 
over the Faithful," was enough to make men fear 
what might come from their trusting, or even 
from their listening to words that swept over old 
faiths like the waves of a great sea. But in mat- 
ters of mere practice, and even of morality, Wy- 
cliffe was better sustained than we should have 
thought he would have been in feudal times. 
The number of his followers was "very much 
increased," says Knyghton ; " for, starting like 
shoots from roots of trees, they were multiplied and 
spread through all the land." Some among them, 
some knights especially, went about armed, 
" lest," as the same chronicler adds, " they might 
meet shame or loss, on account of their profane 
doctrine, from those who held the true Faith still." 
These knights and gentlemen, who embraced Wy- 
cliffe's opinions, seem to have been his strenuous 
and courageous friends.* 
No ! Wycliffe was not alone in believing the prin- 

* Isti erant hujus secti promotores strenuissimi et propugnatores 
fortissimi : qui militari cingulo ambiebant, ne a recte credentibus 
aliquid opprobrii aut damni propter eorum profanam doctrinam 
sentiretur.— Knyghton. 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 99 

ciples of liberty in faith and purity in soul ; nor was 
the world so dark as to give back no reflection of 
the shining light he poured upon it, not from his 
heart only but from the hearts of many true and 
faithful ones, who followed him in life, and re- 
membered him when his life on earth was ended. 
His staunchest followers were the "Poor Priests," 
of whom we read something in all the chronicles 
of the time. They were " Fellows," says Fox, 
" going barefoot and in long frise gowns, preach- 
ing diligently unto the People;" good fellows, 
we should say, who asked no alms, no church- 
living, no repose, but were willing to go " where- 
ever they might help their Brethren to heaven- 
ward, whether by teaching, praying or example- 
giving, while they have time and a little bodily 
strength and youth." A while ago, we took but 
little pains to convince ourselves that WyclinVs 
reforms were not to be set down simply, as so 
much destruction of old things without any cre- 
ation of new things. The word Reform, we 
thought to mean renewal rather than ruin. Now 
in this institution of " Poor Priests," do we find 
complete illustration of what we have been will- 
ing to believe. Wycliffe had declared, not only 
that the clergy must be purified, but also that the 
whole race of mendicant friars must be destroyed, 
if Christ were to keep possession of the world 
against all the struggles of Anti-christ. Yet in 



100 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

those distant years, where we seem to see giant- 
shapes of wrong triumphant over dwarf-shapes of 
right, it would have heen better to let things re- 
main even as they were, than to have rejected 
suddenly all men who called themselves God's 
servants, unless their places could be rilled by 
others of the same name but of purer hearts. 
This, then, was Wycliffe's purpose, — in declaring 
that " Friars and Priests have been the cause, 
beginning and maintaining of perturbation in 
Christiandom," — not to set the world free from 
counsels, or deprive the world of comforts which 
true priests may bring, but to save the world from 
evils which false priests must bring upon men. In 
place of a Church, to which its Clergy were a 
curse, and its People a shame, he would have 
built up a Church, whose Clergy and whose 
People should have been united in Christian 
works and Christian hopes. These Poor Priests 
were Wycliffe's chosen disciples and helpers. 
" By this, preaching the Gospel," he said, " Christ 
conquered the World out of the Fiend's hand; " 
and by preaching the Gospel, Wycliffe, himself, 
believed that his reforms were to be most surely 
achieved. The Poor Priest's mission was to live 
among the people in simplicity, gentleness and 
truth. All he had to do was to be done earnestly, 
but always gradually and peacefully. " Never- 
theless, we condemn not Curates who do well 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 101 

their office, and dwell where they shall most pro- 
fit, and teach truly and stably God's Law against 
false Prophets and the accursed deceptions of the 
Fiend." Yet such gentleness as this had but 
poor return. " If there be any simple man," 
says WyclirTe also, "who desireth to live well 
and to teach truly God's Law, he shall be held 
a Hypocrite, a New Teacher, a Heretic, and not 
suffered to come to any benefice." These Priests, 
be it remembered, never sought benefices, while 
WyclirTe was alive ; for it was his expressed de- 
sire that they should keep themselves free from 
temptations to corruption and indolence, such as 
seem to be the two peculiar characteristics of the 
English Clergy in his time. There was some 
sternness, but there was also much charity in the 
lives they preferred to lead. One of these Poor 
Priests most faithful to their master, was Wil- 
liam Thorpe, born of respectable parents in Wy- 
cliffe's parish, and educated for the priesthood. 
Thoughtful and sensitive, even while a boy, he 
began, as he grew up, to have scruples with 
regard to the calling that had been chosen for 
him. In his anxiety, he had recourse to " those 
Priests," — these are his own words, — " whom I 
heard to be of best name and most holy living, 
and best learned and most wise of heavenly wis- 
dom; and so I communed with them unto the 
time that I perceived by their virtues and con- 
tinual occupations, that their honest and charitable 



102 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

works passed the fame which I had heard before of 
them." The priests, with whom he communed, 
were Wycliffe's disciples, and to them he joined 
himself, and labored steadfastly for Wycliffe's 
principles, more than thirty years. The account 
he gives of his master is brief and full enough to 
be repeated. " He was holden of full many men 
the greatest clerk that they knew then living, and 
withal, a passing ruly [sedate] man and innocent 
in his living ; for which reason, great men com- 
muned often with him, and they loved so his 
learning, that they writ it, and busily enforced 
them to rule themselves thereafter." All that 
Wycliffe taught, all that he did, was, as William 
Thorpe continues, " most agreeable unto the liv- 
ing and teaching of Christ and His Apostles, and 
most openly showing and declaring how the 
Church of Christ had been and should yet be 
ruled and governed." In all the trials, examin- 
ations and persecutions, which succeeded near to 
Wycliffe's death, when most of the Reformer's 
followers were disheartened and faithless, when 
the truth, which Wycliffe had seemed, at least, to 
establish, was shaken and falling down, Thorpe 
was the one spirit, resolute in persecution, faith- 
ful in temptation, unchangeable in the midst of 
many changes. " By the authority of God's 
Law," he declared, " I am taught to believe that 
it is every Priest's office and duty to preach, 
busily and freely and truly, God's Word." His 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 103 

name and Wycliffe's belong together ; Thorpe, the 
firm disciple, Wycliffe, the fearless master.* 

The English Clergy were far from letting Wy- 
cliffe take his own way : and as they had already 
called him before their convention, so they re- 
solved now to hinder him by holding back his 
followers. William Courtney, the same bishop of 
London who had been active in pursuing Wy- 
cliffe, some years before, was now Archbishop of 
Canterbury. He was the son of the Earl of De- 
vonshire, and certainly as haughty and violent an 
Archbishop, — " hot as a Tost," so men said, — as 
one would care to see. A title he presently as- 
sumed, — "Chief Inquisitor of Heretical Pravity for 
the Province of Canterbury," — was like a decla- 
ration of unwearied hostility to Wycliffe, and he 
soon proved himself to be in earnest, by holding a 
synod of his clergy, at the Grey Friars, in Lon- 
don, whose especial concern was to do something 
about Wycliffe's reforms. Accordingly, after con- 
fessing that these new opinions were "declared, 
commonly, generally, and publicly, through the 
realm of England," the Clergy at Grey Friars as- 
sembled, obeyed the orders of their Archbishop, 
and declared all the doctrines, which Wycliffe 
had professed, to be heretical. It was with some 

* There were other names less worthy of remembrance among 
Wycliffe's followers, John Aston, John Purvay, William Swinder- 
by, " right wise men and prudent," so long as they were true to 
their master. 



104 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

difficulty that these brave priests were brought to 
determine on the matter of heresy ; for, near the 
very moment of decision, the house in which they 
were sitting was shaken by an earthquake, and 
they were so much alarmed, that Archbishop 
Courtney was obliged to convince them, that 
the earthquake was a sign of evil doctrines 
downfallen, before they were calm enough to do 
all he desired. Then followed a procession to St. 
Paul's, where a sermon was preached by a friar, 
upon the heresies of the time ; and Archbishop 
Courtney sent abroad letters "admonishing and 
warning that no man do henceforth hold, preach 
or defend the foresaid heresies and errors;" all 
which seems to us as efficacious, as if the Arch- 
bishop and his priests had warned men to use 
their eyes and ears no longer. Wycliffe himself 
had soon something to say about "the Earth- 
quake Council of Friars." To one of the synod- 
sessions held afterwards, Chancellor Rigge and 
Doctor Brightwell were summoned from Oxford, 
charged with having favored the reformer's doc- 
trines. Doctor Reppington, it seemed, had just 
been preaching a sermon, before the members of 
the university and the citizens, in which he de- 
clared his purpose of defending Wycliffe, as "a 
true Catholic Doctor," against the empty sentence 
blown out, like a bubble, from the synod at the 
Grey Friars. They who heard Reppington 
preach this sermon scarcely allowed him to finish 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 105 

it ; and when it was done, some friends, " privily 
weaponed under their garments," dragged him 
away, and saved him from the numerous enemies 
who were now violent against WyclifTe and Wy- 
cliffe' s followers. Doctor Nicholas Hereford had 
preached another sermon to the same purpose of 
defending the reformer against his enemies, and 
both he and Reppington had been sustained by 
the Chancellor and Doctor Brightwell. They 
were therefore all called before the synod at the 
Grey Friars. Here came the beginning of that 
faithlessness, after which Wycliife was aban- 
doned in his old age, by many who had hitherto 
been true to him. Rigge and Brightwell submit- 
ted first : the Chancellor, at Archbishop Court- 
ney's command, declared Wycliffe, Reppington 
and the others to be suspended from "all scho- 
lastic exercises, until such times as they should 
have purified themselves ; " and even Repping- 
ton, himself, yielded, to come out afterwards as 
Bishop of Lincoln and persecutor of Wycliffe' s 
people. Hereford is constantly represented as the 
most eminent among all the Oxford scholars who 
attached themselves to Wycliffe, and is, besides, 
generally supposed to have labored in the great 
work of the Bible-Translation. It has been said 
about him that he kept his faith, and died in a 
Convent of Friars with whom he found a later 
refuge. But to this there are contrary reports, so 
strongly sustained by church-records, of recan- 



106 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

tation first and recompense afterwards, that it is 
impossible to speak more warmly of Hereford's 
memory. 

In 1382, there was published a statute, in the 
king's name, " against the foresaid heresies and 
errors," which the clergy were declaring and pro- 
hibiting with much bitterness and even with much 
success.* It was the first sign of positive dis- 
countenance which WyclifTe received from the 
king, he faithfully obeyed; but even as Edward's 
reign had been noble and national, at least in all 
its better days, so was Richard's profligate and 
timeserving from its beginning to its miserable 
end. WyclifTe' s trust in monarchy, in that one 
principle of justice, was surely shaken before he 
died. He addressed, at this time, to Parliament, 
what he called a " Complaint," setting forth the 
claims of his reforms to the confidence and support 
of his countrymen.f The Commons, more at- 

* The statute ordered all the king's magistrates to arrest " such 
evil persons, as go from county to county and from town to town, 
in certain habits, under dissimulation of great holiness, and without 
the license of the ordinaries of the places or other sufficient au- 
thority, preaching daily, not only in churches and church-yards, but 
also in markets, fairs and other open places where a great congre- 
gation of people is, divers sermons containing heresies and no- 
torious errors, &c. to the great peril of the souls of the people and of 
all the realm of England, &c. and to hold," so the command con- 
tinues, " to hold all such preachers in arrest, these and their fautors 
and abettors, till they will justify themselves according to the law 
and reason of holy church." 

t There is a plain account of this Complaint in the 7th Chapter 
of Le Bas's biography. 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 107 

tached to Wycliffe than to any Archbishops or 
Inquisitors, made immediate petition to the king 
that the statute he had published " be disan- 
nulled," as "it was in no wise their meaning that 
either themselves or such as shall succeed them, 
be farther bound to the Prelates than were their 
ancestors in former times." After this honest de- 
mand of freedom, the statute was repealed ; but 
Archbishop Courtney was not discouraged, and 
straightway summoned Wycliffe to a Court of 
Clergy, before whom the reformer was called upon 
to make full and humble submission. Far from 
submission or retractation, Wycliffe defended his 
reforms, with a spirit that won the admiration of 
those who most feared him, and all the confession 
he offered to make was one which is acknowledged 
even by his enemy, Chronicler Walsingham, to 
have been a confession of faith unchanged and 
unchangeable. There was no fear, no denial, no 
shame, let chroniclers say what they will, in Wy- 
cliffe' s conduct or in Wycliffe' s soul. This very 
year, (1382,) was published a book called Tria- 
logus, in which all the importance of his doctrines 
was upheld with as much earnestness as ever. 
One triumph, however, was certainly gained over 
him, in his separation from Oxford by the king's 
command. Poor king ! not poor Wycliffe ! His 
voice might be stopped, but his pen was left to 
him ; and, had that also been taken away, there 
was a spirit dwelling with him and remaining 



108 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

after him, which no clergy, no king could control. 
" Let a man," said he himself, "let a man stand 
on Virtue and Truth, and all the world overcometh 
him not." We should think that the peace of 
Lutterworth would have been welcome after Ox- 
ford sentences and London synods. There, in 
the place of his gentlest offices, with the help 
of sturdy arms and honest hearts, was the repose 
which he deserved in his old age. It was time 
for him to 

" Take the fruit and let the chaf be stille." 

One more summons came to Wycliffe, neither 
from Oxford doctors nor from London bishops, 
but from Urban, pope of Rome. That the pope 
would have been glad to have the reformer in his 
power, and that the reformer should have been 
entirely unwilling to trust the pope at all, are 
matters of course; but there is something in 
WyclifTe's written reply which we must here re- 
mark. After "joyfully telling all true men the 
belief that he holds and allegiance to the Pope," 
— a belief and an allegiance which Urban would 
scarcely care to claim, — he proceeds in this wise : 
" I suppose that the Pope be most obliged to the 
keeping of the Gospel among all men that live. 
. . . This I take as wholesome counsel, that the 
Pope leave his worldly Lordships to worldly 
Lords, as Christ bid him, and move speedily all 
his Clerks to do so : for thus did Christ and taught 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 109 

thus his Disciples, till the Fiend had blinded this 
World. And if I err in this sentence I will 
meekly be amended, by the Death, if it be need- 
ful, for that, I hope, were good to me. Christ 
hath taught me more obedience to God than to 
man." With these words upon his lips, risen 
there from out a full heart, WyclirTe went quietly 
to Lutterworth, to spend a few more months of 
life in what he loved to do, " teaching, praying 
and example-giving." We have yet to follow 
him in some of his busiest hours and most ear- 
nest desires. 



The name which WyclifTe bore among the great 
scholars around him, the name of "Gospel Doc- 
tor," is his chief claim to our reverence and our 
gratitude. In an age of scholasticism and cor- 
ruption, he studied and loved the Scriptures from 
the time he knew how to study and to love at all. 
They were to his youth, at Oxford, like springs, 
from which he drew deep draughts to last him 
long through his life-time. The Bible, to him, was 
a fountain of purity, by which they who believed 
in him were cleansed from the impiety and des- 
potism of the Church of Rome. He would so 



110 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

shape his whole course upon earth after God's 
guidance, that God's word should be like " the 
washing of water " to his weary feet and his 
thirsty soul. Man cannot labor alone; and So- 
crates bewailed, even in the night of heathen- 
ism, that, " unless the Deity give us instruction, 
there is no hope of changing our lives." To a 
Diviner instruction than Socrates was able even 
to imagine, Wycliffe turned with an earnest and 
a trustful spirit. "In all things," he said, "it 
appears to me that the believing man should use 
this rule, — if he soundly understand the Sacred 
Scriptures, let him bless God, — if he be deficient 
in such a perception, let him labor for soundness 
of mind." This may be nothing new to us, but 
it was something new to England in 1383, when 
Wycliffe completed his greatest work, the Trans- 
lation of the Bible, the first translation of the 
Bible into the English language. 

This Translation is Wycliffe' s declaration of 
faith in God and love for man. The moment we 
understand clearly how God's glory and man's 
perfection were both carried forward by such a 
work as this Bible-Translation, we shall also 
comprehend the measure of Wycliffe' s goodness. 
His greatness is already established in all Eng- 
lish histories, which record, some wisely, some 
unwisely, the reforms he created and continued. 
But of Wycliffe' s goodness scarcely any one has 
spoken or written, as goodness, far more than 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. Ill 

greatness, deserves in all men to be remembered. 
If in these rude words there could be anything to 

" make this memory flower 
With odors sweet though late," 

it should be their heartiness in describing the 
work of Wycliffe' s age, the work in which all his 
affections, all his virtues, all his prayers seemed 
to be united. It is little to say that the Trans- 
lation was well done, that as a mere contribu- 
tion to literature it brought new strength and 
larger excellence into the English language. It 
is more to say that it was wonderfully strange ; 
but it would be still better for us silently to con- 
ceive the spirit in one man with which such a 
work could alone be accomplished, and afterwards 
look abroad for the influence it had upon all other 
men. The chronicler Knyghton has something 
here to say. " This master Wycliffe translated 
the Bible out of Latin into English, and thus laid 
it more open to the Laity and to women who 
could read, than it had formerly been to the most 
learned of the Clergy ;" and this, written in bitter- 
ness and derision, is now to be set down in 
Wycliffe' s praise. The English Clergy were all 
alarmed and angered. They declared the Trans- 
lation " forbidden fruit," and pronounced it to be 
" heresy to speak of the Scriptures in English ;" 
but the pure-hearted man, whom they so bitterly 
hated, acknowledged no other heresy than heresy 
against truth, and knew that the fruit he offered 



112 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

unto his countrymen was from the tree of life 
eternal. The Scriptures were to WyclirTe a 
greater lever than Archimedes desired, to move 
the earth.* 

" The best life, then, for Priests in this world," 
said WyclirTe, himself, " is to teach and spread 
the Gospel." The moral blessings it brought, 
were in progress from vast, wavering reason to 
pure, steadfast conscience, from changeful, hostile 
dogmas to one peaceful and immutable truth. 
The political influences, — we may speak of such, 
surely, as are political, without forgetting that 
there are others far higher and purer, — the po- 
litical influences of such a work as Wycliffe's 
Translation, were manifold as seeds sown for a 
bountiful harvest. The Scriptures loosen chains 
from body as from soul; they raise man's con- 
dition as they raise man's character ; they make 
this world wider and freer, by joining it to the 
world hereafter. Where the Bible is, there are 
freedom and progress and knowledge of Immor- 
tality. It is enough to remember the words of 
our Saviour, — "the Poor have the Gospel preached 
to them," — to know what WyclirTe did for his 
countrymen and for all mankind, in setting up 
that " light of the world," which priests had 
" put under a bushel " of their own. "It is now 
a great sin," exclaims WyclirTe, "not to arise 

* See a second note at the close. 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 113 

and to throw open our windows, for this spiritual 
Light is ready to shine unto all men who will 
open to receive it. . . . Therefore let every man," 
he adds, " wisely, with meek prayer and great 
study, and also with charity, read the Words of 
God." Such an appeal was not in vain; the 
words he restored were read everywhere, as he 
desired, and did more for his cause, for all men's 
cause, than any other preaching or reforming 
could have done; so that, as the historian con- 
fesses, "every second man in the country was 
Wycliffe's follower." Not only was the Bible 
translated and spread abroad, but to inform the 
understandings of people scarcely able to read it 
by themselves, Wycliffe published a tract upon 
the " Truth and Meaning of Scripture." In this, 
among many things it would do us good to read, 
are some words to be repeated : " The truth of 
the Faith shines the more clearly, by how much 
the more it is known ; the Scripture is the Faith 
of the Church, and the more it is known in an 
orthodox sense, the better; therefore, as secular 
men ought to know the Faith, so it is to be taught 
men in whatsoever language is best known to 
them." One of the last efforts of Wycliffe's 
generous life was a defence he made of his Trans- 
lation, before Parliament, setting forth that the 
Scriptures were "the People's property," and that 
what he had restored to his countrymen, had long 
before been given by Christ unto all mankind. 



114 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

Again, and finally, if we remind ourselves of 
the ignorance which was between men and their 
wants, both temporal and spiritual, of the know- 
ledge and the peace with which the Bible alone 
was able to "cover the earth," we shall more 
surely conceive what this Translation, of 1383, 
must have done. One hundred and fifty years, 
too, before Luther's time! One hundred and fifty 
shades deeper of darkness upon the world than 
were above Luther's eyes ! It is but common 
gratitude to confess the name which was long 
ago given to Wycliffe as "the Morning-star of 
the Reformation ; " it is but common devotion to 
thank God that the fourteenth century was not 
too dim, too vaporsome, for that morning light to 
break in and shine upon. 



VI. 



The great hopes for which Wycliffe, like any 
true reformer, toiled, were Faith and Liberty, kin- 
dred in progress, in power, and in truth. His 
reforms were chiefly connected with the Church, 
but according to his conception of the word, 
rather the body Church, they would have large 
influence in all places and with all men. He 
could not make Church-Freedom holy without 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 115 

making State -Freedom dear ; he could not estab- 
lish Faith in Church without establishing what 
it is not here irreverent to call Faith in State. 
Liberty strengthened and Faith purified, for these 
he lived, and these, bound together on earth, were 
together the golden chain by which earth was to 
be bound to Heaven. 



Claims from other worlds inspirited 



The Star of Liberty to rise. Nor yet 

(Grave this within thy heart !) if spiritual things 

Be lost, through apathy, or scorn, or fear, 

Shalt thou thy humbler franchises support, 

However hardly won or justly dear : 

What came from Heaven to Heaven by nature clings." 

v We remember that WyclifTe has never yet dis- 
turbed Civil Authority in England. His respect 
towards Lords has been quite as remarkable as 
his rebuke of Clerks and Priests and Friars. One 
reason for this submission was that he needed aid 
in working out his great Church reforms. With- 
out such friends as the Queen or Lancaster, he 
might have met the martyrdom of which he often 
spoke as very near to him. Edward was his 
king and friend, and gave to -him not only the 
Lutterworth Rectory, but the place of Royal 
Chaplain. Yet we are not to believe that Wy- 
clirTe was silent about State-reforms merely be- 
cause he owed anything to King, Queen, or 
Lords of England, v He was neither a violent nor 
an extreme reformer, but considerate as well as 
earnest, in all he did and all he refrained from 



116 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

doing. His earnestness is so plain, that his con- 
siderateness has been constantly doubted. But if 
any works or any words of Wycliffe seem contra- 
dictory to the prudence and the calmness which we 
would like to acknowledge in him, there must be 
made a greater allowance for the temper of his 
age than for the temper of his, own mind. His 
life is a beautiful example of the wisdom that 
there is in keeping from new evils while escaping 
from old ones. Had his days been prolonged be- 
yond any mortal period, he might have fulfilled 
all the purposes of his heart ; but, short-lived and 
weak-armed as he was, he could only make a 
beginning, to which, even in our time, the end is 
not yet come. ,x/ Most of the great evils about him 
had their root in the Church of Rome. He believed 
that, if the church were purified and expanded, 
the whole/ world would be brightened and in- 
creased ^ut, to fulfil such a belief, he had need 
of man's assistance through God's blessing. Hea- 
ven was open to his soul, and it was by heavenly 
knowledge and heavenly gentleness that the confi- 
dence of his fellow-men was most surely to be 
acquired. He accepted whatever was good and 
strong in the principles of King or Lords, as aid 
to him against the evil and the decay wjaich were 
in the principles of Pope and Priests.^ It would 
not at any time be reasonable or humane to set 
up an individual opposition against all common 
theories and all common practices ; but, in such 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 117 

times as Wycliffe's, indiscriminate hostility to all 
men and all things would have been a howl of de- 
fiance rather than a pledge of reform. How large 
Wycliffe's aims really were, is at once compre- 
hended after reading these words from himself or 
from one of his nearest followers : " When men 
speak of Holy Church, they understand anon 
Prelates and Priests, Canons and Friars and all 
men that have [shaven] crowns, though they live 
never so cursedly against God's Law; and they 
call not nor hold secular men to be of Holy 
Church, though they live never so truly after 
God's Law and end in perfect charity, — and 
here lieth the error of the world." Such a desire 
that all men should be brought into a Christian 
life, was too pure, too peaceful, to be joined with 
any other labor than labor against the wrong 
from which men were suffering. Some around 
Wycliffe knew, some did not know, the sources of 
their suifering and the ends of his labor ; but his 
whole life was the expression of many other lives, 
silent to us, yet not unanswering to him. Wy- 
cliffe, even the reformer, was never " one of the 
Antipodes to tread opposite to the present world." 
The Council of Constance condemned what 
would still be called a seditious doctrine of " Do- 
minion founded on Grace," — according to which 
the authority of king, noble, or magistrate would 
be utterly forfeited by any personal or public evil- 
doing, — and this was condemned as having been 



118 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

maintained by Wycliffe against all acknowleged 
order, all acknowledged law. But it was very 
far from his purposes to have assailed the powers 
upon which he and his national principles depend- 
ed. No principle, no power, no purpose could 
make him time-serving or insincere. When he 
began, as he must have begun, to despair of suc- 
cess, even in Church reform, he turned more 
earnestly to meet the wants of truth and justice 
which he could distinguish everywhere around 
him. Two years before he died, he published a 
tract upon the " Duty of Lords," in which he 
enters into interests of State as well as of Church, 
expressing his conviction concerning the union 
between these interests, both alike human, in a 
demand upon " Lords and Magistrates," that 
" they may constrain Clerks to live in meekness, 
wilful poverty, discreet penance, and ghostly 
travail." It is in the same tract that he declares 
the good things which will be gained, universally, 
by doing away with the evil things which the 
Church allowed. " Lords," he says also, " should 
know God's Law, and study to maintain it," 
which was much to be said at that lawless period ; 
but in another of Wycliffe' s tracts there is said, 
even more strongly, " if temporal Lords do wrongs 
and extortions to the people, they are traitors 
to God and His people." The spirit of all these 
words is this, that the Christian Magistrate should 
be a Magistrate in the Church and a Magistrate 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 119 

over the People ; or, according to his own trans- 
lation of the Psalms, " Ye Kynges, understonde : 
ye that demen [judge] the erthe, be lernid : serve 
ye to the Lord with dreed : and make ye, fuul 
oute, joie to Him with tremblynge." 

The frequency with which English parliaments 
were summoned through the greater part of Wy- 
clifTe's life-time, and the repeated harmony be- 
tween his opinions and their petitions, deserve to 
be remembered. The only expression, which 
parliaments were then able to give to popular 
opinion, would not now seem much to us, but it 
was something to WyclirTe, a support and an en- 
couragement to him. Throughout the last half 
of Edward's reign, WyclirTe is very prominent in 
common civil history, and it was not until later 
in Richard's vexatious reign, that WyclirTe' s prin- 
ciples and Edward's, also, were abandoned. Any 
one of WyclirTe' s reforms, secular or ecclesiastical, 
will be found to express in all its fulness the 
spirit of nationality, that is, of freedom and pro- 
gress, which was just aroused in England. 
V Among WyclirTe' s most earnest opinions, Chris- 
tian and political, both in one, ,was his strong- 
hearted condemnation of war /v If men are to be 
judged after their own times and not after ours, 
we must remember that WyclirTe lived in a feudal 
age. It is plain enough for us to lament the wars 
which have sprung up, like monsters born of blood 
and fire, in later years ; but it was not so plain 



120 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

for Wycliffe to speak words of peace in times 
which were full of strife and wrong. Chivalry, 
which declared it "lawful to annoy an enemy 
just as one can," had made blood-shed honorable 
to men's eyes ; Edward's victories in France had 
set England in a blaze which heaven's showers 
could only extinguish from men's hearts. There- 
fore it was brave, nay, more, therefore it was 
Christian for Wycliffe to declare, that to all this 
glory, " the charity of Christ biddeth the con- 
trary." " Angels withstood fiends," he exclaimed 
again, " and many men with right of Law with- 
stand their Enemies, and yet they kill them not, 
neither fight with them." With bitterness of 
spirit, than which no philanthropist of our times 
seems to have felt greater, he asks, " What honor 
falls to a knight that he kills many men? the 
hangman killeth many more, and with a better 
title; better were it for men to be butchers of 
swine than slayers of their brethren." That 
question has never had an answer, and we can 
reflect now that it was asked long before preach- 
ers of peace began to speak to men of the shame 
of unchristian wars. 

There were two popes, it will be remembered, 
at this time, one in Rome and another in Avignon. 
Urban, pope of Rome, stirred by wrath, resolved 
to make one desperate effort against Clement, 
pope of Avignon. To this end, he sought the aid 
of England, selecting that nation as his champion 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE, 121 

against France which adhered to his adversary. 
More than thirty bulls, to king, lords, prelates, 
priests and people, were sent from Rome, not only 
absolving " from all crime or fault, every one who 
would assist in the destruction of the Clementists," 
but likewise ordering, "as men-at-arms cannot 
live on pardons," that the English Church should 
raise from its own revenues some moneys to de- 
fray the necessities of this "holy" enterprise,* 
which was preached throughout England " in the 
manner of a Crusade." The people, willing to 
believe what they were told, that " none of either 
sex should end the year happily nor have any 
chance of entering paradise, if they did not give 
handsomely to the expedition as pure alms," con- 
tributed their money and their service. A bishop 
of Norwich, " young and eager and wishing to 
bear arms," was made commander, as the pope's 
representative, and, followed by knights, soldiers 
and "multitudes of priests," he went over to 
France and Flanders in the spring of 1383. It 
was not long after, that commander and soldiers all 
returned together, without any other glory than 
that of having done something, as they would never 
have wished to do, towards weakening the power 



* It is impossible not to repeat a question Wycliffe put to all 
Christendom. " Why will not the proud Priest of Rome grant full 
pardon to all men for to live in peace and charity and patience, as 
he doth to all men to fight and slay Christian men ? " 



122 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

which their pope was losing fast. Wycliffe had 
already cried, in loud voice and threatening spirit. 
" Why is not he a fiend, stained foul with homi- 
cide, who, though a Priest, fights in such a cause 1 
. . . Christ taught not his Apostles to fight with 
a sword of iron, but with the sword of God's 
Word, which standeth in meekness of heart and 
in the prudence of man's tongue." He was him- 
self a meek and a prudent man, but it was not for 
him to fear venturing out in such storms as were 
blowing over the world. Once more he exclaims, 
and the words sound like his last : " The Captain 
of our Battle is Christ, and what good knight 
should dread him to fight in the Armies of the 
Lord?" 



VII. 



Wyclifte s fight "in the armies of the Lord" 
was over, and a stainless victory was gaine< 
through him for all mankind. The last months 
of his life were spent at Lutterworth. Forbidden 
to preach at Oxford, and rejected by King and 
Priests of England, there was no other place than 
his peaceful Rectory, which seemed to need or to 
acknowledge him. He knew, in peace or strife 
that he had been true to his work on earth, true 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 123 

to his hope in Heaven, and that what he had done 
was not done in vain. " Truly aware I am," he 
said, " truly aware I am that the Doctrine of the 
Gospel may, for a season, be trampled under foot, 
that it may be overpowered in high places and 
even suppressed by the threatenings of Anti- 
Christ ; but equally sure I am that it shall never 
be extinguished, for it is the recording of Truth 
itself. l Heaven and Earth shall pass away, but 
so shall not my words.' " 

Wycliffe was struck with paralysis in church as 
he was saying mass, and died, two days after, on 
the 31st December, 1384. He was sixty years 
old. ''Admirable," says old Fuller, "that a hare 
so often hunted, with so many packs of dogs, 
should die, at last, quietly sitting in his form." 
More admirable, we should say, that the laborer 
should not be taken from the vineyard until he 
had filled it full with vines of promise, both tem- 
poral and eternal. 

Wycliffe passed away, but the labor of his life 
has endured. In the midst of persecutions and 
recantations, his reforms remained to enrich all 
present and increase all future times. The voice 
of. one among his disciples, Lord Cobham, still 
gives its testimony: "As for that virtuous man, 
Wycliffe, I shall say here, of my part, both before 
God and man, that before I knew that despised 
Doctrine of his, I never abstained from sin. But 



124 JOHN DE WYCLEFFE. 

since I learned therein to fear my Lord God, it 
hath otherwise, I trust, been with me." Through 
Wycliffe, we will trust it hath been otherwise 
with us all. 

The oath which some of Wycliffe' s followers 
were obliged to take before a persecuting Arch- 
bishop of York, is a fit commentary upon all the 
doctrines he maintained, and all the doctrines to 
which he was opposed. " I, before you, worship- 
ful father and Lord Archbishop of York and your 
Clergy, with my free will and full advised, swear 
to God and to all His saints, upon this Holy Gos- 
pel, that, from this day forthward, I shall worship 
images with praying and offering unto them in 
the worship of the Saints that they be made after, 
— and also, I shall never more despise Pilgrimages 
nor states of Holy Church in no degree, — and 
also, I shall be buxom to the Laws of Holy 
Church and to yours, to mine Archbishop and 
mine other Ordinaries and Curates, and keep the 
Laws upon my power and maintain them — and 
also, I shall never more maintain nor teach nor 
defend errors, conclusions, nor teachings of the 
Lollards." * We do not need much more than 
this to make us grateful to our old English re- 
former. 



* A sorry name given to Wycliffe 's followers. See a third note at 
the close. 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 125 

Four and forty years after WyclirTe was buried 
at Lutterworth, there came to his grave some 
"Officials" charged by a poor Bishop of Lincoln, 
whose name need not be repeated, with executing 
an order of the Constance Council, issued in 1415, 
thirteen years before. Such was the spleen of 
this Council, says Fuller, the ancient Church his- 
torian, "such was their spleen, as they not only 
cursed his memory as dying an obstinate heretic, 
but ordered that his bones be taken out of the 
grounds and thrown far off from any Christian 
burial ... To Lutterworth they come," con- 
tinues the historian with pathetic quaintness, "to 
Lutterworth they come, Sumner, Commissary, 
Official, Chancellor, Proctors, Doctors and the ser- 
vants, (so that the remnant of the body would not 
hold out a bone amongst so many hands,) take 
what was left out of the grave and burnt them to 
ashes and cast them into Swift, a neighboring 
brook running hard by. Thus this brook has 
conveyed his ashes into Avon, Avon into Severn, 
Severn into the narrow Seas, they into the main 
Ocean; and thus the ashes of WyclirTe are the 
emblem of his Doctrine, which is now dispersed 
all the world over." It is only needful to add, 
that, from WyclirTe to John Huss the German, 
from Huss to Girolamo Savonarola the Italian, 
and from Savonarola to Martin Luther the World- 
Reformer, there are but the changes of men mor- 



126 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

tally perishing, but bearing on the great principles 
of Faith and Liberty, which are imperishable. 

" Lord with what care hast thou begirt us round ! 
***** 

Bibles laid open, millions of surprises, 
Blessings beforehand, ties of gratefulness, 

The sound of glory ringing in our ears ; 

Without, our shame, within, our consciences ; 
Angels and Grace, eternal hopes and fears." 



NOTES 



Note to page 71. 

It may be as well to tell the whole story about Canterbury 
Hall, because Wycliffe's enemies constantly brought it to bear 
against him. The college was founded for eleven scholars, of whom 
three, with the warden, were to be taken from Christ Church mon- 
astery, at Canterbury, while the other eight were to be clerks or sim- 
ple scholars. The first warden was a monk named Woodhall, who 
turned out to be so violent in office, that the college was in constant 
tumult. So the founder himself, Archbishop Islep, removed him 
and all the three monks, giving their places to clerks, and inviting 
Wycliffe to become warden. But Archbishop Islep soon died, and 
was succeeded by Peter Langham (then Bishop of Ely,) who had been 
a monk himself, and whose sympathies were all in favor of the 
monks lately ejected from Canterbury Hall. Woodhall and his 
three brethren were restored to their posts, and to make way for 
them, Wycliffe and his three clerks were ejected. These last ap- 
pealed to the pope, but the matter ended in their removal being con- 
firmed, not only by the pope, (1370,) but, what seems very strange, by 
the king. Wycliffe submitted in peace, but all his hostile chroni- 
clers declare that this sentence drove him to rebel against the au- 
thority of Rome. Believe no such unworthy charge. Long before 
the pope confirmed Archbishop Langham's proceedings with regard 
to the college, (1370,) Wycliffe had not only published his "Last 
Age of the Church (1356) and his " Objections to Friars'' (1360,) but 
even while he still held the wardenship, (1366,) he had defended 
the refusal of parliament to acknowledge the pope's claims to 
tribute. It is a main object with us to acknowledge Wycliffe's 
sincerity. 



128 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

Note to page 112. 
Without wishing to crowd so small a volume as this with un- 
necessary details, it is most earnestly my desire to make Wycliffe's 
labor for the Scriptures plainer than most of those writing about 
him have chosen to do. It was his great labor, his labor of true 
love, and does entirely deserve to be comprehended. With this 
purpose, I have gathered into a brief note some extracts from his 
own writings, bearing against the spirit which all his writings were 
intended to overcome. The amusements of the Clergy and the oc- 
cupations of Scholars in his time have been already described. But 
it has not yet perhaps been made clear that the point farthest re- 
moved from both scholastic and clerical pursuits was the study of 
the Scriptures. The one Volume, dearest to our hearts, was nearly 
closed to human hopes, and human fears, when Wycliffe came into 
the world. The only places,' in which the Bible was ever opened, 
were in universities or monasteries, and even there it was often 
rejected, because, we will hope, it was a book unknown. " He," 
says Roger Bacon, " who lectures upon the Scriptures must 
give place to him who lectures upon the Sentences,* for this 
one will everywhere have honor and precedence." The names 
of great divines and scholars, in the Dark Ages, — Sublime, 
Incontrovertible, Seraphic, Angelic, — are signs of so much scho- 
lasticism, that is, of so much pursuit after things merely intel- 
lectual. There was no common union between learning and hu- 
manity, none between knowledge and charity ; the educated were 
not even generally good, nor were the good even generally educated. 
One evil doubt which really prevailed about the possibility of 
villeins or serfs being received in Heaven, is simpler than any long 
account could be, in making us feel how often good hearts and wise 
heads must have been unnaturally separated. The Scriptures were 
either neglected, because they were unknown, or else forbidden, 
because the precepts they declared, were far from the practices in 
which men, and even priests, were willing to abide. " This," 
writes Wycliffe, " do our High Priests mark well ; lest the Truth of 
God's Law, hid in the Sepulchre, break out to the knowing of the 
Common People. O Christ ! Thy Law is thus hidden now ; when 
wilt Thou send Thine Angel to remove the Stone and show Thy 
Truth unto Thy Flock ? » 
In the very earliest tract which Wycliffe published among the 



* Peter Lombard's 'book of Sentences,' — a fanciful collection 
of dogmatic propositions drawn from various Church-Fathers. 



JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 129 

people, in the " Last Age of the Church," he sets forth the example 
after which his whole life was then determined : " Jesus Christ, 
entering into holy things, that is, into holy Church, by holy Living 
and holy Teaching." Another work upon the Commandments 
[Expositio Decalogi] illustrates VVycliffe's teaching of the Scriptures, 
at that time, when, as he writes himself, it was nothing uncommon 
for men to " call God ' Master,' two, three, or fourscore years, an< r 
yet to remain ignorant of His Commandments." After other wordi 
of introduction, Wycliffe begins to comment upon the Command- 
ments in the Old Testament. The purpose of the whole tract is 
simple explanation of such among the Commandments as were not 
clear to his countrymen ; and the manner in which he was wont to 
do this may be taken from another tract containing the following 
exposition of the first among the Ten. " What thing a man loveth 
most, that thing he maketh his god. . . . And thus when man or 
woman forsaketh Meekness, the Meekness which Christ Jesus 
commandeth, and giveth himself to Highness and Pride, he maketh 
the Fiend his god, ... or using deadly sin, he breaketh this first 
Commandment, worshipping false gods." "Let every man," he 
writes in the Expositio Decalogi, "let every man and woman who 
desires to come to the Life that lasts forever, do his business, with 
all strength of Body and Soul, to keep God's Commandments." In 
his tract upon the Papal Schism, already mentioned, are these 
words, connected with his Scriptural labors ; " they, the priests, 
must learn their Logic and their Philosophy well, lest they prove 
heretical by a false understanding of the Law of Christ . . . and 
this Freedom," he said in one of his sermons, " this Freedom Christ 
gave to men that they might come to Heaven's bliss with least diffi- 
culty ; . . . and we," he continues in still another place, " we cannot 
so much as think a good Thought, unless Jesus, the Angel of great 
Counsel, send it ; nor perform a good Work, unless it be properly 
His good Work." 

But even this note would be made too long, were it filled fuller 
with extracts significative of Wycliffe's confidence in the Scriptures. 
The clearest proof of this confidence is in just such words as have 
been quoted, so openly do they show the knowledge he possessed 
and the ends to which that knowledge was turned. He could 
neither have spoken of God's Law, nor of Christ's Life, nor of 
man's duty, as he does here, had he not given up mind and heart to 
purer studies and higher thoughts than were followed by most men 
around him. One more extract from his writings is added, because 



130 JOHN DE WYCLIFFE. 

it so sets forth the life, which Wycliffe early chose, and to which he 
was continually faithful. " Good Priests, who live well in purity of 
Thought and Speech and Deed, and in good Example to the People, 
who teach the Law of God, up to their knowledge, and labor fast, 
day and night, to learn it better and teach it openly and constantly, 
these are the very Prophets of God . . . and the Spiritual Lights of 
the world. . . . Think, then, ye Priests on this noble office, and 
honor it, and do it cheerfully according to your Knowledge and your 
Power." As Wycliffe declared at Lambeth, before the English 
clergy, and in Parliament, before the English people : " These are 
the conclusions, which I will defend unto the death." 

As a specimen of Wycliffe's Translation, I have taken from Ba- 
ber's edition, (printed in 1810,) the verses of St. Matthew's Gospel, 
which contain the Beatitudes. 

" Blessid be pore men in spirit ; for the kyngdom of hevenes is her- 
un. Blessid ben thei that mournen ; for thei schalen be coumforted. 
Blessid ben mylder men ; for thei schalen weelde the erthe. Bless- 
id ben thei that hungren and thirsten rightwisnesse ; for thei schal 
be fulfilled. Blessid ben merciful men ; for thei schal gete mercy. 
Blessid ben thei that ben of clene herte ; for thei schalen se God. 
Blessid ben pesible men ; for thei schalen be clepid Goddis chil- 
dren. Blessid ben thei that suffren persecucioun for rightwisnesse ; 
for the kyngdom of hevenes is herun. Ye schal be blessid whenne 
men schal curse you, and schal pursue you, and schal seye al yvel 
agens you liynge for me. Joie ye and be ye glade ; for your meede 
is plenteous in hevenes." 

Note to page 124. 

I have not thought any account of the later Lollards or of their 
persecutions needed ; because it has always seemed to me that they 
do not deserve to be considered as Wycliffe's followers. While the 
reformer was alive, his Poor Priests and his people lived together 
among other men in the peace which he constantly preached to them. 
But when he died, when, three years after, his writings were for- 
bidden by royal statute, and, still more, when a new king, Henry 
the Fourth, consented that " heretics " should be burned alive, it 
appears as if the purposes of the Lollards, become violent and fa- 
natical, had been changed by circumstances changing about them. 
It was enough to fulfil the promises which Wycliffe had given, that 
his faith and his energy were preserved in some honest and unal- 
terable hearts. 



THE REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA, 



14S9-1498. 



[IluXig] iv kuyoig r xsiuivt], insl ytjg yt ovSauov oipcu avx^v 



A State which exists only in design, for I do not believe its like 
to be upon the Earth. 

Plato. [Republic, Book IX.] 



The perfect State and the perfect Church are identical. 

Arnold. [Inaugural Lecture.] 



THE REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 



L 



Far away — and long ago — were the scenes 
we would seek in that still blooming Florence, 
which Charles the Emperor declared " too pleas- 
ant to be looked on, but only on holidays." One 
bright afternoon of a spring, three hundred and 
fifty years gone by, on the Palm-Sunday of 1496, 
a long procession that we would follow ourselves, 
is moving through the city. By the banks of 
swift-flowing Arno, on broad, sunshiny squares, 
in narrow streets overshadowed by lofty pal- 
aces, everywhere beneath that southern sky, we 
shall find, spread out in crowds, a light-heart- 
ed and impulsive people. There are nobles of 
ancient name, merchants of recent wealth, arti- 
sans of lusty bearing, and women of stately steps 
and brilliant eyes. The festival seems to be one, 
in which all are sharing equally, and they tell us 



134 REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 

that it is to represent the entry of Christ into 
Jerusalem. Church-bells ring in boisterous har- 
mony, while sounds of psalm-singing are mingled 
with the murmurs of a rejoicing multitude. Eight 
thousand children, wearing red crosses and hold- 
ing olive branches, come grouped around a taber- 
nacle covered with sacred images. Priests and 
monks, citizens and even armed soldiers follow 
on, all chanting fervently some holy airs. Girls, 
in white robes wreathed with flowers, a train of 
pure and budding creatures themselves, walk 
after, and behind these are their sisters and 
mothers in so great numbers, that the long lines 
are closed and filled with women. Such as stand 
by catch the enthusiasm they behold, and a vehe- 
ment friar cries aloud that the glory of Paradise is 
descended upon the earth. Here and there the 
procession lingers to join in chant and solemn 
dance about the tabernacle which the children 
bear ; and when it reaches the cathedral, each one 
pauses in succession to bend his knee before the 
altar and recite his prayers. There must have 
been some wonderful influence to move not the 
surface only, but the very depths of devotion in 
these careless Florentines. Even they, who look 
on coldly, seem to respect feelings most contrary 
to their own. The insolence of nobles and the 
turbulence of citizens are banished, at least on this 
unwonted holiday. We follow the throng in 
peace from the cathedral to St. Mark's square, 



REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 135 

where stands the convent of the same name. 
There the people pause and give passionate greet- 
ing to a monk just coming from the convent-door. 
It is easy to see that this is no ordinary man. His 
countenance is thin and worn away, but above it 
rises an abundant brow, and from full, glowing 
eyes shines forth the light of a great soul. Men, 
women, and children are hushed to hear him speak 
of truth and love, in words that kindle and sub- 
due, by turns, their listening hearts. In him the 
people of Florence acknowledge their great man, 
their reformer, their teacher, Savonarola. The 
ceremonies so briefly described, were done at his 
orders and with his directions. Now, that he 
ceases to speak, the crowd opens and gathers again 
round a circle of monks, children, women and 
citizens, all dancing and singing, ring within ring, 
as one of the friars may well say, " without any 
other heed at all," until the day closes and the 
people, weary and restless still, return to their 
quiet homes. The good- will and the enthusiasm 
of this Palm-Sunday are to be borne in mind as 
both characteristic of Savonarola's influence over 
the Florentines. Some one says that the city is 
become " a New Jerusalem in so much mystery," 
and that it is so we are quite ready to believe. 

Four years earlier, at the death of Lorenzo de 
Medici, Florence would have seemed to us a new 
Babylon rather than a new Jerusalem. Then 
there was no other enthusiasm than such as men 



136 REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 

find in riot and revelry, no other peace than such 
as comes with submission and forgetfulness. 
Lorenzo's half gentle, half rugged face tells us 
more of him than any historian has fully told. 
In that compressed lip, that searching eye and 
that swollen brow are expressed his unprincipled 
ambition and his fervid intellect. He was a 
magnificent scholar, and for that we honor him ; 
he was a corrupt ruler, and for that he will be 
scorned by honest men. Florence, while Lorenzo 
lived, was harnessed to his chariot wheels, and 
far was she dragged in greediness and shame. 
Her festival days were spent in lordly tourna- 
ments or impious debaucheries, and her homes 
were all possessed by vice and ignominy. Liberty 
was abandoned and honor forgotten in the mad 
courses of twenty licentious years. In reading 
how Florence was raised from the dust in which 
she lay, we read the story of Savonarola. 



II. 



GiBolamo Francesco Savonarola was born of a 
noble Paduan family, in Ferrara, on the twenty- 
first of September, 1452. The times, in which 
this birth happened, were full of troubles and 
changes. 



REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 137 

The Church of Rome, long the source of good, 
was become the fountain of evil to the world. 
Its virtue and its power were both failing fast. 
Cathedrals might still be filled with kneeling 
crowds, and anthem harmonies might still rise up 
into heaven-like domes, but worship in all its 
magnificence, was worship of knee or lip or ear. 
The purification of the Church was still the hope 
of true hearts. Men were not yet ready to aban- 
don Rome, although Rome seemed to have aban- 
doned them. The noble depended upon its indul- 
gences, the scholar loved it for its learning, and 
the poor clung to it in confiding ignorance. But 
while priests were profligate, and popes were 
faithless to all Christian hopes, it was in vain 
that reliance, affection, and confidence were given 
to a Church which did not deserve even its name. 
Rome, the city, was wet with blood and corrupted 
by gold. A Yice-Chamberlain's reply to one who 
reproached him with the venality of his govern- 
ment, that it was for "the wicked to pay and 
live," * is a fearful expression of darkness, such 
as was then settling upon the Church and upon 
the age by which the Church was still acknowl- 
edged. The characters of the different popes who 
succeeded to each other, during the latter half of 
the fifteenth century, may be taken, separately or 

* The story is really to be found in Sismondi, Hist, des Rep. Hal. 
Tome VII., p. 204. 



138 REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 

collectively, as representing the priests and, in a 
less degree, the people whom they governed. One 
was a scholar, like Pius Second (Eneo Silvio) ; 
another was a brawler, like Sixtus Fourth ; one 
other, worst of all, an enemy to God and man, 
was Alexander Sixth, the Borgia, the adulterer, 
the murderer. It is strange to follow these men, 
who were exalted above the world, that the world 
might learn not only to fear them, but to fear the 
faith by which they had been magnified, and 
watch the gradual approach of a time, when such 
as these were to be rejected and put to shame. 
Savonarola's life was spent in struggles against 
the crimes, by which his religion was polluted 
and his home was made desolate. The Arch- 
angel's warning had been completed : 

" Wolves shall succeed for teachers, grievous wolves " ; * 

and Christendom was become like a desert, its 
monuments and its dwellings covered deep with 
sand. Yet it was not at once known how many 
things were changed, or how many were still to 
be changed. The most earnest purpose, prevail- 
ing among men, was to build up again upon the 
very sands which had swept over their old hopes. 
Not even Savonarola, prophet as he thought him- 
self, knew how to look beyond wastes in which 
he could find no shelter, no repose, to a promised 
land. Yet neither he nor they, among whom he 



* Paradise Lost, xn. 503. Or Dante, Paradiso, xxvn. 55 « 57. 



REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 139 

lived, are to be mistaken. It was an age of many 
vicissitudes ; old things were departing, new things 
were coming ; life was disturbed, minds were 
hurried ; and we need not doubt the perplexity, 
the restlessness, and the weakness which were 
natural to the times. 

The strength of the Church was still maintained 
by art, by poetry, and by philosophy, the three 
great voices of humanity. A simple roll of 
names is clearer than any general principles. In 
art, there were Masaccio, a man so gifted that 
none could even imitate him for half a century 
after ; Verrocchio, who watched over the hopeful 
studies of Vinci and Perugino; Ghirlandajo, whom 
Michelagnolo was never weary of praising as his 
master; Perugino, himself, whose exceeding glory 
was in his scholar RafTael : there were these, and 
many more, devoted, all, to expression of that 
faith which they and their world believed. There 
were poets, Boiardo and Politiano, Pulci and 
Beni vieni, singing aloud of loves and festivals, 
but echoing, also, the deeper sounds of superstition 
and prayer. In the very year after Savonarola's 
birth, Constantinople fell into the hands of the 
Turks, and its long agony was ended. Its learn- 
ing and its scholars were hurried away to the 
western states of Europe, where welcome and 
support were sure. The first influence of these 
new minds, living and dead, was favorable to the 
Church of the Middle A ges, now departed. The 



140 REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 

most earnest students were the most devout be- 
lievers in Rome ; and the confusion of ancient 
philosophy and recent theology was for a time 
continued by such as Cardinal IJcssarion, Ficino, 
and even the wonderful Pico della IMirandola, all 
thorough scholars. Even the earlier remonstran- 
ces winch Lorenzo Valla had uttered against 
Koine, and the later opposition made by Pietro 
Pomponazzi to the philosophy on which the faith 
of Rome was slaked, seem to have conic out from 
wandering intellects rather than from resolute 
souls. The only object in reading these names 
here is to comprehend the spiritual bearings of 
Savonarola's age. He was not a Protestant like 
Luther, the men about him would not have acted 
with him if lie had been; but he was the very 
martyr of such strivings against evil in material 
and in moral things, as were congruous to Italy 
and to the fifteenth century. He could do no 
more, as a great man, than help forward, by his 
own devotion, the longings which were felt by 
many, though there was none to labor for them 
and die for them like Savonarola. 

It is not so easy to trace the decline of Liberty 
as to discover the actual decay of Religion in Italy. 
Any history will make it plain thai in Savonarola's 
time, and in Savonarola's country, there was no 
real liberty existing; but. our enquiries must 
stretch farther, even to comprehending the course 



REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 141 

of things which were so early ended. The old 
freedom of the Italian cities, — where was it then ? 
The citizens who were free in the Middle Ages, — 
or their descendants, — where then were they ? 

The liberty of the Italian cities, in their best 
days, it must be recollected, was not such liberty 
as would be accepted in our own times. Any one 
city, as a political state, comprised three classes 
among its people, nobles, citizens, and laborers, 
each as remote from the other, as though their 
interests and their associations had never been, or 
never were to be united. In early times, the nobles 
were most powerful ; their birth, their pomp, their 
warlike habits gave them secure control over all 
the political rights which others beneath them 
claimed. But in the common course of human 
destinies, this overshadowing power of rank and 
arms was brought to the ground. Industry and 
commerce were fast increasing, and with them 
there grew up new influences of wealth and luxury. 
The nobles fell away ; their pure blood flowed 
feebly in their veins ; their iron armor hung 
heavily on their limbs. To them succeeded the 
merchants, the masters, the citizens of the thir- 
teenth and fourteenth centuries, through gradual 
but never silent revolutions. Their dominion of 
gold was as exclusive as the nobles' dominion of 
iron had ever been, and the liberty, which belonged 
to their cities, was scarcely increased by any lib- 
eral principles or any liberal institution of the 



142 REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 

newly risen citizens. The greatest hindrance to 
progress in liberty, progress in peace, progress in 
virtue, arose from the factions, into which nearly 
every Italian city was divided ; countrymen to 
countrymen, friends to friends, brothers, even, to 
brothers, they were all set against each other and 
against themselves, with hateful cries upon their 
lips and bloody weapons in their hands. There 
could be no freedom in such strifes as were every- 
where prevailing. Yillani, the early historian, de- 
clared that " the Florentines were of loyal souls, 
faithful one to another, and desirous of being like- 
wise faithful in their country's affairs ; " but their 
desires and their fidelity were equally imperfect. 
It was in a game of foot-ball * that the old burghers 
of Florence first won their liberty from the nobles ; 
but their game was a short one ; the magistrates 
they chose, and the offices they established, were 
all gone from them in ten years' time. The lower 
classes were continually abused, even when the 
industry, to which their labor was indispensable, 
had grown into influence and honor. As the 



* This was the favorite game in the old city of Florence. It was 
played upon one of the public squares by a number of champions, 
chosen from out the higher classes only, wearing different colors, and 
struggling together with as much eagerness as though their game 
had been a pitched battle. On the 20th of October, 1250, the citi- 
zens not only drove their ball beyond the bounds, but arming them- 
selves hastily, they forced the Podesta, a foreign magistrate, to resign 
his office, and then set up themselves, a new government of Citizen 
Counsellors, (Anziani.) 



REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 143 

nobles had yielded to the citizens, the citizens 
were, in their turn, very near yielding to the labor- 
ers and the workmen; but these poorer classes 
were too weak, too ignorant, to overcome the 
wealth, the power, and the knowledge, by which 
they were pressed down. Any tumult, merely 
popular, that is started and continued by the lower 
people, was soon subdued by the magistrates and 
the upper classes to which the magistrates belonged. 
All Italy was in confusion, and those states of Italy 
which were freest were most confused. There was 
no security of life or property : no maintenance of 
order or law ; no increase of real liberty. Accord- 
ing to the constitution of government which 
lasted longest in Florence, the six Priors at the 
head of affairs were actually imprisoned in the 
public palace, during the two months of their 
magistracy ; yet the title of these magistrates was 
no less an one, than " Priors of Liberty." 

The story of Giano della Bella is entirely a 
commentary upon Florentine Freedom. He was 
a man of noble birth, who abandoned his title and 
his privileges either for the sake of his own inter- 
ests, or, as we would rather believe, for the sake of 
his fellow-citizens, who needed some helper in the 
distress to which they were reduced. Giano was 
made a Prior, and he then came forward among 
the people, to accuse the crimes which had been 
committed by the nobles, and to demand new 
powers, such as the magistrates needed in order to 



144 REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 

protect the lower citizens. His appeal, made in 
passionate language, was answered by passionate 
voices. A commission of citizens was instantly- 
named to secure the justice and the liberty which 
all Florence knew to be failing ; and some hundred 
ordinances (ordinamenti della giustizia) were soon 
after published, by which all the most noble fam- 
ilies were forever excluded from holding any chief 
offices of the republic. In proportion to the 
strength and the oppression that had been exer- 
cised by the nobility, were the degradation and the 
injustice then done to them. The new laws, set 
up in place of the old, were the laws of a quarrel- 
some democracy, if a state can be called by such 
a name in which the citizens, the tradesmen, the 
merchants, were alone powerful. Were Giano 
della Bella the true patriot that he seems to be, he 
was surely dismayed by the working of his own 
reforms. The trader-priors began with razing 
some houses of the nobility to the ground; the 
laws, by which they pretended to govern, were 
every day more disordered ; the people of citizens 
not even pretending to obey, was growing sedi- 
tious; the nobles were recovering their courage 
and their strength ; and new tumults were chasing 
each other through the streets of Florence, always 
tumultuous, if not always free. Giano dared to 
undertake a second revolution far more difficult 
than the first, in which his good purposes had 
utterly failed. "Perish the republic!" he cried, 



REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 145 

"and me with it, rather than endure these iniqui- 
ties ! " But his efforts were defeated, his good 
name, even, was slandered, and he was forced to 
fly from his home, (1294,) dying afterwards in ex- 
ile. " It was a dreadful loss to our city, and most 
of all to our poor people," says Villani, " for he 
was the most loyal man and the most sincere re- 
publican in Florence."* 

It is plain, then, that Italian liberty was neither 
complete in principle nor enduring in progress. 
As a birth-right, as a gift of God to all humanity, 
it was never, at any time, nor in any place, ac- 
knowledged. Even in the years before Savona- 
rola's birth, it had come, when it came at all, 
with the success of factions triumphing over each 
other in the same city ; and, to be free, it was then 
more necessary to be a Guelph or a Ghibeline, 
than to be a Florentine. But in the years of Sa- 
vonarola's youth, these factions were all passed 
away, and such republics, as had breath enough 
left to claim the name, in Italy, were only phan- 
toms of what they had once been. Lucca and 
Sienna were reduced to mere oligarchies ; Bologna 
was fallen beneath the dominion of the Benti- 
voglio family; Genoa accepted or refused her 
masters, just as they chanced to come and go 
away ; Milan had no other government than abso- 

* This quotation is taken from Sismondi, who may he consulted 
for a more detailed account of Giano della Bella. Hist, des Rip. 
Ital. Tome III. Chap. I. 
10 



146 REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 

lute monarchy; and Florence wore the chains hung 
upon her, as has been said, by the Medici. Dante 
would still have called his country Serva Italia, 
Italy the Slave, * and yet it was ever the same 
Italia bella, Italy the Beautiful. The greatest 
part of Italian cities had submitted to successful 
adventurers. Chiefs of parties established them- 
selves as tyrants of a whole people, by no other 
right than that of triumph. 

Che le terre d'ltalia tutte piene 
Son di tiranni, ed un Marcel diventa 
Ogni villan che parteggiando vieneA 

These three lines tell the whole story of free- 
dom's ruin in Italy. When a faction had once 
prevailed against its enemy, it found that there 
was a necessity of yielding its new power to the 
leader it had hitherto followed for its own sake. 
The leader became the lord, and the lord became 
the tyrant over followers and over adversaries. 
This might happen suddenly, or it might happen 
gradually ; but in either way, the issue was the 
same. The day of freedom and the day of union 
were ended together, and together the day of 
tyranny and the day of separation began. 

It was in Savonarola's life-time that Henry 
Seventh, Louis Eleventh and Ferdinand the Ca- 



* Turn to the mournful lines of the Purgatorio, Canto vi. 76, &c. 

t " For the countries of Italy are all full of tyrants, and every 
countryman, who succeeds in faction, hecomes a lord." — From 
Dante, Purg. vi. 124-126. 



REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 147 

tholic gave expression from their thrones to the 
spirit which ruled all men. There seemed to be 
no other principles of government left, than cun- 
ning, covetousness, and falsehood. Throughout 
Italy, the policy of Venice was accepted as a 
model for all policies ; and, so long as strength and 
endurance were gained at all, it mattered very 
little how they were gained. Political reform was 
quite as necessary as any other reform. Savona- 
rola, as we may read, was himself a political re- 
former, although he never professed to have much 
acquaintance with merely political principles. 
The materials were scattered; the moulds were 
broken and shapeless; and we need not look for 
any image that shall be perfect in our eyes. In 
truth, the things to be changed were things un- 
seen. The character of men had been degraded 
according to the character of tyrannies above 
them, and the reform of human governments 
needed a reform of human lives. Some signs of 
noble spirit were still shown in the conspiracies of 
that same period, in such, of course, as arose from 
noble motives ; and it was by conspiracies, blood- 
stained as they were, that common rights seemed 
to be brought within reach of common men. One 
of the most striking episodes in the history of 
Italian liberty is the story of Girolamo Olgiati, 
who, with two companions, slew Galeazzo Sfor- 
za, the hateful duke of Milan, to avenge not 
only the dishonor of his sister, but the miserable 



148 REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 

slavery of his countrymen. Olgiati was instantly 
seized by the duke's soldiers, and was afterwards 
tried by torture beneath the eyes of hired judges. 
A confession he wrote before them declares his 
confidence in the goodness of the cause for which 
he suffered so young, and he was only twenty-two 
years old. His death was worthy of his pure and 
dauntless spirit. The executioner, in tearing his 
flesh, forced from him a cry of anguish, but he 
calmed himself instantly, and with his last breath 
murmured, Mors acerba, fama perpetua. Stabit 
vetus memoria facti ! That his efforts in Milan's 
behalf should so utterly fail, is proof, not only of 
the strength in which tyrannies were established, 
but quite as much of the feebleness with which 
people submitted to them, throughout long abused 
Italy. 

Florence, renowned and beautiful beyond all 
other cities in Italy,* had long preserved its inde- 
pendence and its pride amid the wrecks by which 
it was thickly surrounded. It could not escape 
the storms of faction and bloodshed which were 
brought upon it by Guelphs and Ghibelines, the 
Ricci and the Albizzi, the Ciompi and the change- 
ful Balie. Yet during all this violence, all this 
license, even while temperance and wisdom were 



* " Egregia citta oltre ad ogni altra Italica bellissima," as its 
adopted son, Boccaccio, exultingly exclaimed. 



REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 



149 



put aside, the city grew in wealth and art and 
fame. The ancient nobility, among whom were 
great names still, lost their influence, and were, at 
last, deprived by statute of all political power. 
This was really the severest loss which the insti- 
tutions of a State like Florence could have suf- 
fered. The places of such men as Farinata degli 
Uberti, the preserver of Florence after the defeat 
of the Guelphs at Arbia * or such as Tornaquinci, 
who fell with both his sons in defending the Car- 
roccio or War-Chariot of the republic, could never 
be supplied by mercenaries or common citizens. 
The merchants who would have governed a city, 
as if it had been a bale of merchandise, prepared 
its downfall and their own. The great family of 
the Medici usurped superior authority in Florence, 
almost insensibly, and almost entirely unresisted. 
Their rule was really better suited to the char- 
acter of the people who submitted to them, than 
the rule of the rich men, from whose hands 
power had slipped, at the very time when Flor- 
ence was shaking off the rusty chains of Dark 
Ages, and rising to the first place in our modern 

* « Know ye," so said Farinata to the Ghibelines, with whom he 
was then victorious, and who were much inclined to destroy the 
city which was Guelph at heart, " know ye, that though I were 
alone of all the. Florentines alive, I would not suffer my country to 
he destroyed ; nay, if it be necessary to die for her a thousand times, 
I am ready to die a thousand times for her." These words are re- 
lated by Aretino, according to Sismondi, Hist, des R6p. Hal., Tome 
II., Chap. 9. See the tenth Canto of the Inferno. 



150 REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 

world. Physically, it mattered little to the Floren- 
tines, that they had lost all real independence ; 
but morally it mattered much, that they should 
forget to depend upon themselves, and should be 
content to abandon the liberties which were their 
fathers' pride and their fathers' safety. Yet it was 
hard to see things, then, as we now can look upon 
them. Agriculture had never made the valley 
of the Arno more smiling; industry had never 
worked greater wonders in the city of arti and 
mestieri, the peculiar city of Arts and Trades; 
commerce had never extended itself farther to 
find luxuries abroad which were magnificently 
used at home ; even learning, newly born, found 
shelter and nourishment within the walls, rather 
within the very hearts of Florence; all was 
abundant there but freedom and piety, and with- 
out these life here and hope hereafter fail. 

Machiavelli and Savonarola, both reformers, ex- 
press, each in his own way, the desires which be- 
longed to these restless times. The one proposed 
political reform alone, holding that all things 
were to be accomplished by force and treachery. 
The principle of his greatest work is power, no 
matter how obtained nor how exercised. He had 
no faith in mankind, and the energies he gave his 
country sprang from gloomy and ungenerous feel- 
ings. This one was Machiavelli. The other, 
Savonarola, believed in higher aid than he could 



REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 151 

find on earth, and not only labored, but prayed 
for peace and holiness. His heart, sotto Vusbergo 
di sentirsi pura, protected by its own purity, was 
filled with love for his fellow-beings, and to them 
he devoted his virtue and his faith. He was 
sometimes fanatical, sometimes stern, sometimes 
wrong ; but he believed himself to be the instru- 
ment of Providence, and fell a willing victim to 
Truth, like Socrates. The children of Italy have 
been born to sad inheritance. We, far away, may 
dream of winning loveliness, or melodious voices, 
or Heaven's gentlest reflections, as alone belong- 
ing to that southern land : but winds, sweeping 
from the past, come laden with clouds and tears 
across its skies. Some fruitful promises are just 
now unfolding themselves in Italy, and many a 
heart dares to believe that the life of long-lost 
years may be renewed. The memory of such as 
Savonarola is an evening and a morning-star. 

Milton's description (in the first book of Paradise 
Regained) of a solemn childhood, might well be re- 
peated of Savonarola's earliest years. The boy's 
heart was warm, but he had more fondness for se- 
clusion and studies than for companionship and 
amusements, which are to most men their happiest 
memories. His grandfather Michele, a distin- 
guished physician, who had been personally in- 
vited to the Ducal Court of Ferrara, and his 
father Niccolo, lavished their tenderness and wis- 



152 REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 

dom upon his education. Savonarola's serious- 
ness was only interrupted by that passionate love 
of poetry, which is a birthright of all Italians. 
In philosophy and theology he followed the teach- 
ings of Thomas Aquinas, "the Angelic Doctor" 
of the Middle Ages ; and, as the teacher had been 
a Dominican friar, so the disciple inclined to take 
orders with the Dominican brotherhood, and at 
the age of twenty-three he entered their convent 
at Bologna. He 

" already was prepared 
By his intense conceptions to receive 
Deeply the lesson deep of love," 

and the longings of his heart for faith and devotion 
were satisfied in a life of sacrifice. 

At first he was unwilling to partake of the com- 
mon pursuits of the monks among whom he had 
chosen to dwell, but his excellence and maturity 
of mind were soon discovered to his superiors, and 
both at Bologna, and in St. Mark's convent of 
Florence, where he presently repaired, he was ap- 
pointed public lecturer in philosophy. When he 
began to preach, during his first residence in Flor- 
ence, being then about thirty years old, he failed 
entirely in manner and in language ; yet he was 
not discouraged, and among the calmer studies of 
his own cell, he prepared himself to fulfil the 
promises, which to his watchful hopes must have 
been already revealed. A few months after this 
first disappointment, he was sent on some priestly 



REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 153 

mission to Lombardy, where he remained for 
several years, preaching and lecturing with fast- 
increasing influence. One of Lorenzo de' Medici's 
friends happened to meet Savonarola, in the 
north, and was so much amazed with his ear- 
nestness and piety of spirit, that he prevailed upon 
Lorenzo to invite the return of the eloquent monk 
to St. Mark's. This friend, not to Lorenzo alone, 
but to Florence and the Catholic world, was the 
great scholar Pico della Mirandola. He wrote, at 
this time, che non gli pareva piu poter vivere 
senza lid, that he could not live apart from such 
a man, and to the day of his death he was Sa- 
vonarola's faithful hearer. Savonarola gladly ac- 
cepted the summons, and came back to Florence 
in 1489, from which year his great public career 
may be said to have been begun. He was then 
thirty-seven years old; his youth was past, but 
all the glow of manhood was upon him still. 



III. 



Within the first year after his return to Flor- 
ence, Savonarola had so won the confidence of his 
brethren, that they made him their pfior in St. 
Mark's. He was born to authority among men. 
Ever since the Medici were first in power, it had 



154 REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 

been a custom with all the Florentine convents, 
that their newly elected priors should present 
themselves before the chief of the ruling family, 
to express to him the respect of their fraternities. 
Savonarola refused to make this visit to Lorenzo, 
declaring that he owed his office to higher au- 
thority than that of any man. The monks were 
greatly alarmed, but Lorenzo, far from resenting 
this rudeness of their prior, rather sought to attract 
an honest spirit by graceful kindness ; yet there 
was no way to open which Savonarola was 
willing to follow towards Lorenzo. The simple 
monk dared to refuse the great lord's gifts, which 
had no charm for his plainness and integrity of 
life. He was one among very few who could see 
the gloomy influences which were behind the 
Medici's pageantry, and them he would neither 
yield to nor seek at all. Lorenzo is said to have 
entreated or commanded Savonarola to cease from 
public preaching of the tribulations which were 
about to fall upon Florence, but the prophet was 
even more seditious than the prior, although he 
seems to have refrained, at least, from any open 
reproaches to Lorenzo or the Medici. 

Yet a little while and Savonarola stood by Lo- 
renzo's death-bed. The poet, the patron, the tyrant, 
was drawing feebler breath every hour. His heart, 
never hardened, humbled itself to ask absolution 
from that pure and unstained spirit which had 
been tempted in vain. Savonarola's charity was 



REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 155 

sincere, but it exacted much repentance in return. 
Without making any unseasonable discourse to 
the dying man, the confessor asked a declaration 
of full faith in God's love, and, as an earnest of a 
faith so solemn, a promise that all things which 
had been unjustly acquired in the life now nearly 
ended, should be surrendered while there was yet 
time. The declaration and the promise were both 
made ; but when the confessor claimed the restor- 
ation of liberty to Florence, the dying lord made 
no reply, unwilling, perhaps, to make this sacri- 
fice, perhaps, to promise what he was no longer 
able to fulfil. Savonarola turned away and left 
Lorenzo to die unshrived. With such sternness 
we can have no sympathy ; and it seems but little 
to have forgiven political transgressions, that are 
since almost forgotten among the better memories 
of Lorenzo's life. 

The associations which connect in history 
these two chief men of Florence, are entirely 
characteristic of Savonarola, but they are not 
altogether honorable to him. His refusal to meet 
Lorenzo de' Medici or to accept offers which 
other men would have crawled on their knees to 
gain, sounds like perfect heroism. But it is much 
to be questioned, if the prior, by shutting himself 
up sulkily in his convent, did half so much good, 
even by such an example, as he might, perhaps, 
have done by acknowledging the protection which 
all Florence acknowledged, in order, afterwards, 
to possess some influence over the authority 



156 REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 

which all Florence obeyed. Lorenzo was full of 
quick-flashing sensibility that Savonarola might 
have fired and extinguished, almost as he pleased. 
He was the very man to win confidence from a 
glowing mind, and we have a right to fancy that 
he could have persuaded Lorenzo, in life, to do 
something towards the fulfilment of that justice it 
was too late to demand from him, in death. But 
in these brief stories are all the honesty and all 
the severity which distinguished the Florentine 
reformer. 

The place which Savonarola filled in Florence, 
at the time of Lorenzo de' Medici's death, was al- 
ready large and eminent. The seeds he was ear- 
nest to sow in men's hearts were springing up in 
freshness and virtue. As yet, he belonged to his 
convent more than to the great world, and lived 
among his brethren in deep tranquillity. Almost 
daily then, he led his monks without the city 
walls, finding "sweet shrines" for them and for 
himself, among choral-sounding trees and incense- 
breathing flowers. Or he would sit in the convent 
garden for hours, content to train the simple 
souls that trusted in him, to gratitude and piety. 
Savonarola believed in nature's own holy teach- 
ings. His mind was full of poetry, which often 
escaped its quiet bounds, bearing him on to mys- 
ticism and even to fanaticism. He believed him- 
self, at length, to be an inspired man, commissioned 
to work miracles and to utter prophecies. His 
frequent predictions were mostly declared upon 



REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 157 

common events it was easy to foresee, but their 
fulfilment gained for him the reverence of the 
people whom he wished to guide. He was guile- 
less as a child, and if he ever deceived others, he 
was himself deceived. So far, at least, he was a 
true prophet, that he prepared the way of Religion 
and Freedom among his countrymen. It would 
be wrong to believe him satisfied with dreamy 
mysticism. His days were never lost in 

" Lotting down buckets into empty wells, 
And growing old in drawing nothing up ; " 

for he was, honestly, a practical reformer. What 
he did was done sometimes prematurely, sometimes 
hastily, but it was his solemn purpose to give the 
world, in which he lived, the purity he loved to 
seek in an ideal world. 

The instruments, which Savonarola employed 
in his great labor of reform, by speech and by ac- 
tion, were chiefly these three : simplicity, strength, 
and fervor. He was unsuccessful, at first, in 
preaching, but thoughts like his can never perish 
for want of air, and when he returned to the Ca- 
thedral-pulpit, after renewed preparation, he was 
graceful, eloquent, and triumphant. The dust 
which other preachers threw in men's eyes, he 
washed away with words that 

" dropped like Heaven's serenest snow, 
And all was brightness where they fell." 

His cordial voice came like music to weary 
minds. Burlamachi, a Dominican friar, who 



158 REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 

wrote a contemporary biography of Savonarola, 
speaks with great enthusiasm of his "ardent and 
devout countenance," his "graceful gestures," his 
voice "like a trumpet," his language "living, 
clear, and full of sanctity." He was another Amos, 
even as he described the ancient prophet, "a 
shepherd and a simple man, whom God had 
chosen." He knew no fear in his hatred of vice, 
no measure to his love of virtue. His sermons, of 
which many have been preserved by the care of 
those who wrote them down after hearing them, 
are his own history. As mere compositions they 
are of little value, but as fervid and practical ex- 
hortations to all good things, they may well be 
read and followed still. " I must preach to you," 
he said to the Florentines, "because God has com- 
manded me to do so for your good ; your wicked- 
ness is plain, and to me have been revealed the 
punishments to come upon you, unless you shall 
embrace a more perfect and Christian life." He 
began (1489,) with preaching in the church of his 
own convent, St. Mark's, but in the next year, the 
crowd to hear him was so great, that he was 
obliged to preach to them in the Cathedral. His 
sermons were never written ; what he said to his 
people came, as they knew, straight from his heart ; 
and, although there might have been little method 
and less elegance in his words, there were sincerity 
and energy, such as give to eloquence its greatest 
power. He prayed, and his people prayed with 



REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 159 

him ; he broke into passionate exclamations, and 
they could follow him ; he wept, and their tears 
and his were mingled. He often spoke to them of 
their duties as citizens as well as of their duties as 
men.* 

There is no point in the history of Savona- 
rola's reforms more worthy of being well remarked 
than the comprehensive unity of their nature and 
design. He was neither perfectly wise nor per- 
fectly bold, but such plans as he could make were 
limited neither to Church alone, nor to State alone ; 
they comprehended both by one larger plan of 
humanity, in which all lives, all duties were num- 
bered. Savonarola preached for eight years to the 
same people, but their zeal never failed. They 
filled the churches in which he preached ; they 
gathered about him in the streets through which 
he walked ; they sought his counsel in the convent, 
at times when he was not to be seen among men. 
Those sermons which remain, bear witness to the 
single-hearted faith of the reformer, to the hopes 
he cherished of bringing men nearer to Heaven, to 
the Christian longings of his overflowing spirit. 
He, and they who heard him, are long passed 
away, but the prayers breathed every day, in the 



* " Citadini miei, — such appeals as this are very frequent,— quando 
voi andate su nei vostri consiglj, se voi foste umili, Iddio vi illumi- 
naria ; se voi non foste ambitiosi e tanto superhi, voi avreste fatte 
ora mille cose che non avete fatte." These words are from one of 
Savonarola's sermons. 



160 REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 

Cathedral of Florence, are like echoes to his 
preachings and to his people's devotion. 

Meanwhile, we are to remember, that the world- 
ly interests of Florence were changing rapidly. 
Pietro de' Medici, who succeeded without difficulty 
to his father's authority, was weak in character 
and wild in life. Although he had been watchfully 
educated by Angelo Politiano, and was really a 
young man of much accomplishment, he was 
headstrong and careless of his countrymen's af- 
fection. To them it was really " servitude, to 
serve the unwise," and the power of the Medici 
became less to their eyes. Then came Charles 
VIII. across the Alps from France, followed by a 
brilliant army, which he had devoted to ambitious 
hopes of adventure in Italy. We have to meet 
him in Florence, only, where the approach of 
youth and power, like his, must have kindled the 
hopes of colder hearts than Savonarola's. It was 
the universal belief that the French king was to 
become the regenerator of Italy ; that his protec- 
tion would bring strength, and his command give 
union, to a weak and sundered people. Pietro de' 
Medici, himself, was much disposed to resist 
Charles's coming ; but, when the evil day was 
close at hand, and no preparation had been yet 
made to defend Florence, he went to meet the 
French and delay their march, as if they had 
been beasts to be drawn after any plunder, by 
throwing open some of the Florentine fortresses 



REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 161 

that lay in their way. At this, the people he left 
behind him rose up, in despair, to save their dishon- 
ored city from ruin. The Medici were all driven 
out, and, with one brave struggle, the republic set 
itself free. Savonarola was the counsellor of those 
who loved liberty, and, to protect them, he went 
forth himself, at the head of an embassy to Charles, 
welcoming him and claiming his protection. The 
bold priest found favor in the king's eyes, and 
Savonarola returned to Florence with fair prom- 
ises and hopeful predictions. Dark as things 
were, the prophet's eye caught glimpses of light 
beyond the clouds, and the prophet's voice was 
lifted up in cheerful confidence. Alas ! that the 
prophet, even Savonarola, was deceived ! 

Eight days after the expulsion of the Medici, 
the French king entered Florence, rather as a con- 
queror than a protector, followed by his best 
troops under arms. Savonarola believed that all 
was well ; but there were men more skilled than 
he in this world's ways, who knew that their 
homes were in peril from the strangers. Peasants 
well-armed were presently collected in every 
house, and the walls were garrisoned by the Con- 
dottieri of the republic. There was little wish on 
either side for open hostilities; the Florentines 
did not fear the French more than the French 
mistrusted the Florentines ; but when Charles 
offered terms of protection it would have been 
dishonorable to accept, they were instantly and 



162 REFORMS OF SAVONAEOLA. 

boldly refused. Pietro Capponi, the chief secretary 
to the government, tore in pieces the papers which 
were presented to him from the king, crying 
out to the French commissioners all amazed, 
" If such things be demanded, then blow your 
trumpets, and we will ring our bells."* King 
Charles obeyed the generous impulses, which were 
really in him, and made more honorable proposals 
to the people so manfully defended. But his coun- 
cillors came between him and his mercy, and per- 
suaded him to deny the very offers he had made.f 
The Florentine magistrates heard by mere chance 
of the danger which was threatening them, and 
betook themselves to Savonarola. "It is you," 
they must have said, "O prior, it is you who did 
persuade us to put our trust in this wild king ; 
go you, now, unto him and defend us, defend 
our city against his evil will." Though Savona- 
rola's confidence in Charles must have been 
shaken, he could still bid his friends be of good 
cheer. He went to the king, and, finding access 
through royal guards to his presence, spoke, as 
one who feared God alone, of the pledges Charles 
himself had made, and which could not now be 

* A verse by Machiavelli bears pleasant testimony to his daring : 
" Lo strepito dell' armi e de' cavalli 
Non pote far si che non fosse udita 
La voce d'un Capponi fra tanti Galli." 
+ That Florence should recover the fortresses surrendered by 
Pietro de' Medici, on payment of 120,000 florins, or 300,000 dollars. 



REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 163 

broken, without bringing shame and disaster upon 
his arms. The king's better purposes returned 
as he listened to words so bold as these, and a 
day or two after, he left Florence with all his 
army, to pursue in the south his brief and bril- 
liant enterprise. Florence was saved, and Savo- 
narola, in the face of his own prophecies, was her 
preserver. 

Our place is still at Savonarola's side, among 
men and things around him. The Florentines 
had won back their freedom, and had escaped the 
sword of the invaders, but they had not found 
peace among themselves. The great mass of 
the citizens, bearing the names of Frateschi or 
Piagnoni, Brethren or Weepers, followed or pre- 
tended to follow the religious principles which Sa- 
vonarola maintained. A few rich merchants and 
some fewer nobles, although really attached to the 
interests of the exiled Medici, under the obscure 
name of Bigl, or Greys, were generally willing 
to act with the Weepers. The young nobility, 
hostile to the stern reforms of Savonarola, enrolled 
themselves as Arrabbiati and Compagnacci, Mad- 
men and Evil Companions, names which explain 
themselves. These men, Weepers, Greys, and 
Evil Companions, were all bitterly opposed to 
each other ; their city was well-nigh lost in con- 
fusion ; but its reformer knew no fear, and dared 
even from elements like these to shape and fulfil 
his political reforms. The government he pro- 



164 REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 

posed, and which the city accepted after some 
months spent in other experiments, was very 
simple in its forms. A Grand Council of eighteen 
hundred citizens, whose fathers had possessed 
any ancient offices, from whose body eighty mem- 
bers were chosen to form a smaller Council, com- 
prised, with some chief magistrates, the entire 
supports, on which the new destinies of the state 
rested. Two or three years afterwards, all young 
men, in Florence, between the ages of twenty- 
four and thirty, were admitted to the Grand 
Council, and in this increase of councillors the 
state received its most democratic development. 
Of this government Savonarola was the creator, 
and by this chiefly, although he confessed it to 
be imperfect, by this chiefly is he known as a 
political reformer. 

He never professed to be a master of political 
science, but he was almost alone in maintaining 
the principle, to us so plain, that a government 
must be judged according to its good or evil in- 
fluence upon its people.^ In many of his politi- 
cal reforms is reflected the spirit of the age, and 
his desire for power and unity in Italy led him to 
prefer the undivided authority of a king, although 
his love of liberty was too strong to be sacrificed 
to any political theories. But, seeing how warmly 
the love of republicanism was returned to the 

* These are his words : " Essendo l'unione e pace del popolo il 
fine del governo." 



REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 165 



Florentines,* and how unwilling they would 
have been to acknowledge any other sovereignty 
than their own, he gave them what they asked 
of him, an honest and open framework for their 
party-colored lives. His laws were founded upon 
the precepts of Christian faith: "Every citizen 
must abandon sin and strive to perfect this gov- 
ernment in the fear of God . . . That govern- 
ment alone being perfect, which, with all diligence, 
seeks to increase the common weal by bringing 
men to virtue, and inclining them especially to 
God's worship." He would have had religion fa- 
miliar to men in their council chambers, as well as 
in their homes. But although Savonarola believed 
that the wisest laws were the best, practically, 
not theoretically, he was deceived by his own 
ardent aspirations, into believing that the Floren- 
tines were good enough to be ruled by spiritual 
principles alone. He guarded them well against 
sedition and tyranny, and seemed to think that 
he had protected them against all other evils by 
proclaiming Christ to be their king. Could those 
restless men have submitted to Christ's mercy, as 
they did, but a few years later, to man's tyranny, 
their city would have been God's City upon the 
earth. But such faith was impossible to spirits 
less fervent than Savonarola's, and when he set 



* Who were besides, as he said of them/ 1 popoli che sono inge- 
gnosi ed abbondano di sangue e sono audaci." 



166 REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 

upon a human state the mark of his own mysti- 
cism, he set upon it the seal of decay. Yet there 
is no heart too cold to be warmed by the same 
hopes, which Savonarola trusted, of seeing men 
live as God's subjects, even while they acknowl- 
edge the dominion of some fellow-man.* 

Quidquid illud accidet, 
Juvabit ore personasse Christum. 

So far, the prophet seems to be honored in his 
own country. But the priests of Rome were 
alarmed by the church-reforms which Savonarola 
had most at heart, and began to oppose them bitter- 
ly. The reformer, himself, was charged with un- 

* " Perche, avendo io predicato molti anni per volonta di Dio in 
questa vostra citta, e sempre proseguitate quattro materie ; Cioe 
sforzatomi eon ogni mio ingegno di provare la Fede esser vera : e 
di mostrare la semplicita della vita Cristiana essere somma sapienza : 
e denunziare le cose future, delle quali alcune sono venute, e le altre 
di corto hanno a venire : ed in ultimo di questo nuovo Governo della 
vostra citta : e avendo gia posto in iscritto le tre prime ; . . . resta 
che noi scriviamo ancora della quarta materia, accioche tiuto il 
mondo veda che noi predichiamo scienza sana, e Concorde alia ragi- 
one naturale ed alia dottrina della chiesa." 

These are words introductory to a brief treatise (trattatello) upon 
the new government which Florence needed. The words which 
follow express the hopes of Savonarola for that excellence of life to 
which he was continually calling the Florentines. 

"Cosi in breve tempo si ridurra la citta a tantaReligione, che sara 
como un Paradiso terrestre, e vivera in giubilo, e in canti e salmi ; e 
i fanciulli e fanciulle saranno come angeli, e gli nutreranno net 
viver Cristiano e civile insieme: per gli quali poi al tempo suo si fara 
nella citta il governo piu tosto celeste che terrestre, e sara tanta la 
letizia dei buoni, che avranno una certa felicita spirituale, in questo 
mondo." 



REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 167 

becoming interference in secular affairs, although 
many of his brother-priests were far more active in 
the world's cause or their own, than he. "Any 
matter," he replied, '-'ordained to the glory of God 
and the good of men belongs to my office; and all 
I do," he added, '-'oh Florence, is in thy love." 
Savonarola was disinterested in all things, taking 
no thought for wealth or power, but looking to a 
harvest in broader fields. Pope Alexander Borgia, 
the most monstrous pope that poor, abused Chris- 
tendom had ever obeyed, began to dread lest Savo- 
narola's voice should be turned against him, and 
would have, at once, bribed the preacher to silence 
by the gift of a Cardinal's hat : but Alexander had 
his answer in the next sermon from that Cathe- 
dral pulpit in Florence — "The only red hat I 
shall ever wear, will be red with my own blood 
in martyrdom" — and words like these were enough 
to make any pope shake with fear. It would 
have been as easy to stay a mountain-torrent by 
splinters, as to turn Savonarola by bribes from the 
course he was destined to pursue. 

We pass over the long and confused war, be- 
tween Florence and Pisa, in which the Pisans, 
feebly aided by the French king, would have freed 
themselves from the government of their old allies 
but present oppressors, the Florentines. It is right, 
however, to say, that Savonarola encouraged his 
people in fighting to the injury of their neighbors, 
instead of persuading them, as we should have 



168 REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 

imagined, to give the Pisans all the liberty they 
desired. But it is equally right to say, that the 
Pisans were quite incapable of governing them- 
selves, and that, having prevailed against the 
Florentines, they speedily submitted to the con- 
trol of harder and more distant masters. The 
war itself was of no possible importance. 

Once only, and then but for a short time, Savona- 
rola was absent from Florence during the last 
years of his life. He went back to Bologna, called 
there to preach in some festival season. Among 
the throng which nocked about his pulpit, was 
the wife of Bentivoglio, lord of Bologna. She 
came to hear him preach quite constantly, but 
was often so late and always so pompous in 
coming, that Savonarola was bold enough, at last, 
to rebuke her before his whole audience. So 
singularly offended, she besought her husband to 
put the insolent priest to death, and Savonarola 
would have been slain had not the very assassins 
who surprised him, been stayed by his serenity 
and resolution. It was in earlier years, as he 
once journeyed between Ferrara and Mantua, 
that he happened to cross some river in the same 
boat with ten or a dozen soldiers. Their licentious 
manners and blasphemous language moved him 
to speak with them, and so earnestly did he win 
their attention, so warmly did he awaken their 
better feelings within them, that they threw them- 
selves at his feet, confessing their sins aloud and 



REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 169 

imploring his pardon. Remembering what the 
soldiers of his days were, mercenary and debauched 
men, we can believe that this was no common 
persuasion which moved hard and forgetful hearts 
to repentance. Savonarola did not speak in vain, 
and such spirit obeyed his call, that Florence 
seemed to be suddenly filled with brave men and 
virtuous women in the place of its feeble and cor- 
rupted people. A famine fell upon the city, but it 
brought none of its common miseries. The rich 
took care for the poor ; grain was bought in large 
quantities to be sold again at. old prices ; money 
was offered even to the state, without interest ; 
and Florence seemed well deserving of her liberty. 
A plague followed the famine, and that was a 
trouble against which benevolence was of little 
avail ; but although the citizens fled their homes, 
and monks abandoned their convents, Savonarola 
remained at the side of the sick and dying. " We 
must put our trust in the Lord," he said, " not in 
flight;" and he was spared to labor longer in his 
still abundant vineyard. 

The principle of purity was the great principle 
of Savonarola's reforms. His own words, taken al- 
most at random, are these : "the world is no more 
quickened with dews from Heaven, but rather, 
leaving Christian limits, it runneth fast towards 
paganism." That one word " paganism " ex- 
presses the whole spirit of Savonarola's age. So 
many changes could not be worked, so many 



170 REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 

hopes, even, could not be formed, without some 
confusion and some error. The tendency of things, 
political, ecclesiastical, philosophical, was towards 
truth, but there was still a weary and a cloudy 
separation between truth to come and things as 
they were. Savonarola could see that the holiest 
springs of life were becoming turbid, while Chris- 
tian faith and Christian knowledge were dark 
with stains. 

The treasure-houses of antiquity had been 
opened to the search of men; but though great 
stores of learning were found, there was brought 
from them much that was evil and decayed. The 
poetry and philosophy of Greece took refuge in 
Italy, after the fall of the long-crumbling Eastern 
Empire. The orators and historians and poets of 
old Rome were restored to the places they had 
long before lost. Great libraries, such as the 
Laurentian and St. Mark's, were founded in Flor- 
ence, and the hidden hoards of the Vatican were 
begun in Rome. Scholars became the counsellors 
of Italian states, as Simoneta, the historian, was 
also Simoneta, the chief-minister, during a troubled 
regency in Milan. There were men of noble 
birth, who preferred to any others, the honors 
they could win by devoting themselves to litera- 
ture, and one among their number, Giovanni Pico 
della Mirandola, was the most wonderfully accom- 
plished scholar of his time. Even women were 
attracted to the pursuits, in which their graceful- 



REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 171 

ness can be always agreeably contrasted with 
man's industry, and Cassandra Fidelis, of a Mil- 
anese family, deservedly won the name of Decus 
Italian. Historians are right to associate this period 
of Italian history with the name of Lorenzo de' 
Medici ; and just as he was great in some things 
but not in all things, so to the literature which 
grew up around him, there belonged two sides, 
one bright and glorious, the other dark and shame- 
ful. The virtue in which the new studies were be- 
gun, changed to what may be fairly called vice, as 
they were continued. Christian names, given in 
baptism, were abandoned for those of mythology or 
old story. Nuns bore the name, if not the char- 
acter, of Vestals : the Virgin was hailed the god- 
dess Mary ; Christ our Saviour was called the son 
of Jove ; Providence was known only as fate. Pope 
Alexander's election was proclaimed as though he 
were a God, (taken probably for Charon the 
ferryer to hell :) 

Opes quae sunt tibi, Roma, novus fert deus iste tibi. 

Plato was almost worshipped, especially in the 
house of Marsilio Ficino, the Florentine scholar, 
who kept a lamp constantly burning before a bust 
of the great old Grecian ; and more faith was given 
to the philosophy of Aristotle than to the Gospel 
of Christ. But all -'the subtleties of philosophy 
were like dust" to Savonarola.* He was asked, 

* " Sono le suttilita dei filosofi como polvere . . Fanno di questa 
filosofia e della Scrittura Santa e logica un mescuglio, e questo 



172 



REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 



he tells us, during his noviciate, why he could 
spend time or thought upon such an antiquated 
chronicle as the Bible. Education, itself, became 
unworthy of Christian understandings. To purify 
the studies of children and of men, to bring moral 
and intellectual excellence close together, to fill 
all minds with sincere and holy knowledge, — to 
do this was Savonarola's earnest desire, and so far 
as he was trusted, so long as he was spared, his 
desire was faithfully fulfilled. The best proof we 
have of his success, limited as it certainly was, is 
in the friendships which were given him by the 
scholars of his time, all alike grateful for the honor 
to which he would have exalted the best pur- 
poses of their lives. Pico della Mirandola loved 
him ; Angelo Politiano, bound to the Medici, was 
yet free enough to declare his reverence for the 
learned prior of St. Mark's; Benivieni, the poet, 
trusted in the preacher's warm spirited promises ; 
Marsilio Ficino, the Platonist, allied himself to 
Savonarola, the Christian. 

The passionate pursuit of new studies in art 
soon led to errors akin to those which deformed 
the new studies in literature. The painters of the 
fourteenth and fifteenth centuries prepared the day 
of triumph, whose hero was Raffael, but at very 
sunrise, there were gathered such clouds about 
the eastern skies, that their glorious light was for 

vendono sopra li pergami, e le cose di Dio e della Fede lasciano 
stare." [From a Sermon.] 



REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 173 

a moment dimmed. What the French sculptor, 
Falconet, said of Michelagnolo, Tai vu Michel 
Ange, et il est ejfrayant, is only partly, but very 
really, descriptive of art in those years when An- 
gelo was young, himself studying in the academy 
which Lorenzo de' Medici established in Flor- 
ence. Palace-walls and church-altars were often 
haunted by evil shapes of painting and sculpture, 
too evil to be even told. Music itself, holiest of 
arts, became discordant and impure, and was, at 
last, abandoned to the orgies of a southern Carni- 
val. Savonarola would have restored all the 
simplicity and purity which had been taken away 
from art. He knew that harmonies are dear to 
Christian souls, and with their breath would have 
driven forth the evil spirit which was in the 
world. He knew how men love beauty, and would 
have clothed it in white robes, emblems of inno- 
cence and majesty. The artists of Florence, such 
as Andrea dell a Robbia, Lorenzo di Credi, and 
Botticelli,* all devoted themselves to Savonarola's 
great aims. Baccio del la Porta, most warmly of 
all, shared in the aspirations of the pure-hearted 
reformer, and at his teacher's death, sought peace 
within convent-walls, dying an humble friar, but 
leaving to us the name and works of Fra Bar- 
tolommeo. 

These manifold reforms, successively begun by 

* See note at the end. 



174 REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 

Savonarola, were far from being acceptable to 
many men of his own age, and from their hearts, 
" hard," he said, " as stones," he turned to 
younger and fresher ones, whose love was more 
easily won, and whose hopes were more quickly 
kindled. He called a new generation, the boys 
and girls of Florence, around him, and to them he 
disclosed the long-hidden truths of faith and honor. 
They, at least, he thought, would gather up the 
fruits he was planting for the future wants of his 
country and theirs. The trust he reposed in the 
innocent promise of children was a feeling akin 
to adoration. " Angels speak with them," he 
said in one of his sermons. Savonarola began to 
preach what may be called a domestic reform in 
the care of young children ; and for them, who 
were older, he would have had the whole plan of 
education made larger and holier. While he 
lived, he was unwearied in teaching those young 
followers of his prayers ; he divided them into as- 
sociations governed by counsellors, chosen among 
themselves, and gave them chief parts in the 
ceremonies of his great holydays. 

If we go back, in the last years of Savonarola's 
life, to the time of Carnival, the old time of tumult 
and revelry and shame, we shall wait in vain for 
scenes which were everyday sights through the 
Medici period. Florence is itself unchanged, its 
people look upon us with the same dark eyes, and 
speak to us in the same soft language, but they and 



REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 75 

their doings are all unlike what was once there in 
the holyday city. This Carnival-show is different 
from the procession we followed on Palm-Sunday. 
The streets are filled with children, all dressed in 
white, and wearing the cross which is the sign of 
their life-long crusade. We can watch them run- 
ning from house to house, demanding at every 
door, "in the name of Christ and the Virgin," 
such objects of luxury and profane art, as each 
house contains. So soon as their arms are laden 
with pictures, or dresses, or ornaments, or even 
musical instruments, they are hastening to the 
great square. There everything, precious and 
worthless, bad and good, is thrown upon a huge 
pile, built up like a pyramid, and crowned with a 
monstrous figure which means, we are told, the 
old Carnival itself. Close to this huge image is 
hung the speedily painted portrait of a Venetian 
merchant, who just came out with an offer of 
twenty thousand crowns for this mass of "vani- 
ties." The meaning of this is characteristic of 
the whole ceremony. The " vanities " are the dif- 
ferent things which have been brought by the rest- 
less children ; and some of the excited friars, stalk- 
ing about the square, declare that the Venetian's 
effigy shall be burned " as chief of all the van- 
ities," because he was eager to save them from 
destruction. When the Carnival-pile is crowded 
and covered, so that it can bear no more, children 
and friars and people get together, and march, 



176 REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 

with much shouting, chanting and (what is rather 
inconsistent,) alms-gathering, to the Cathedral, 
where they cross themselves, with a devout 
prayer, and then return to the great square, the 
scene of sacrifice. Throwing banners and images 
upon their huge burnt-offering, they kindle it 
rapidly, amid sounds of music, bells, and songs. 
The fire spreads, the whole air seems in a blaze, 
and the pile cracks and burns and falls, while the 
crowd joins, with loud rejoicing, in the Te Deum. 
Strange as all this is to us, even after what we 
have already seen on Palm-Sunday, it is but the 
natural outpouring of that enthusiasm which Sa- 
vonarola has awakened among his people. 

The alms-gathering, which seemed a contra- 
diction to Savonarola's generous professions, was 
for the poor, not for him ; and the moneys, taken, 
were collected in a Monte di Pietd, a Mount- 
Charity. All who were needy might then go to 
this, sure to have their wants relieved by a free 
loan of any moderate sum. Usury and poverty 
were stripped of their worst miseries, and as Sa- 
vonarola's benevolent purposes were more fully 
known, offerings, from individuals and from gov- 
ernment, were so multiplied, that not only one, but 
three of these " mountains," delectable moun- 
tains indeed, were soon raised. The recorded 
offer of a Jew, to the Florence magistrates, that 
he would pay them twenty thousand florins, (or 
fifty thousand dollars,) to prevent the establish- 



REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 177 

ment of these charities is abundant testimony to 
their worth and their usefulness. They deserved 
the name which they acquired of " pious asylums 
for suffering humanity," and the example in 
Florence was followed in other cities of Italy. So, 
at Savonarola's bidding, there rose these fountains 
of refreshing waters, at which men athirst could 
drink and be satisfied. 

It was more than two years after the departure 
of the Medici from insulted Florence, when Signor 
Pietro, having failed in all his advances towards 
reconciliation, came back, followed by a goodly 
number of armed men. Without the gates, which 
were speedily closed against him, the exile waited 
for some movement in his favor from within ; but, 
his professed friends, the Greys, choosing, perhaps, 
to keep themselves dark, until Pietro could do 
something himself to support them, never an arm 
was lifted for him, never a voice shouted for him, 
and, in despair, he turned away once more from 
the home which refused him, to wander and die, 
at last, among strangers. But his appearance at 
the gates of Florence, sternly as it had been met, 
was followed by fresh troubles among the citizens. 
The Gonfaloniere, chief magistrate according to 
the last constitution, at this time, was an old man 
of honorable family, by name Bernardo del Nero. 
He was one of the Grey faction, favoring the old 
state of things, yet never directly opposed to the 
new, and, like several other eminent citizens of the 
12 



178 REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 

same moderate principles, he had been chosen to 
the high office, which, among such a people as 
the Florentines, most needed moderation in its 
exercise. Bernardo del Nero, known, therefore, 
to be attached to the Medici, was straightway- 
condemned to death, with four other distinguished 
men of the Greys, for having shared secretly in 
the plans, which had just failed. This hurried 
sentence was pronounced upon the five citizens by 
an extraordinary tribunal, and, without being al- 
lowed the common right of appeal to the Grand 
Council, they were executed on the same day of 
their trial. Bernardo del Nero was more than 
seventy-five years old, and, as he said, had little 
life to lose ; but for that little, Savonarola might 
have pleaded, we must think, and pleaded suc- 
cessfully. It was the time for his voice to be 
heard, reminding his people that Mercy may walk 
hand in hand with Authority, and preventing them 
from doing wrong to justice they professed to 
honor, wrong to liberty they professed to love. 
Their state, Savonarola's state, was never Chris- 
tian, so long as faction or injustice or strife pre- 
vailed. One of the principles upon which the 
reformer had founded his government, was that 
of severe and even arbitrary punishment of any- 
thing like sedition or returning tyranny.* It has 

* "Item, provvedere che chi fosse trovato in fallo senzaremissione 
alcuna fosse punito : perche chi non e severo in punire, non pud 
conservare i regni." This is from his Tratiato del Governo. Ac- 
cording to Guicciardini (Storia, Lib. in.), the reasoning among the 



REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 179 

been already shown, that the great political ob- 
jects with all Italians were security and freedom 
joined in one. But this triumph of the popular 
party, the Weepers, over Pietro and his adherents j 
was the beginning of their downfall and of Savo- 
narola's sufferings. 

The end of the adventurous journey is draw- 
ing near. The Florentine capitalists, unwilling 
to see their largest sources of money-making 
buried beneath Mount Charities, are first and fore- 
most among Savonarola's enemies at home. The 
city-tradesmen find, to their dismay, that half their 
profits from luxuries are at an end. The elderly 
citizens are disgusted with things about them so 
different from their early debaucheries, and the 
nobles are indignant that they are still controlled 
by what William Roscoe dared to call the worship 
of the "golden calf" reformer. This is a suffi- 
ciently formidable array, but, led by furious priests 
from Rome, it was a thousand-fold more danger- 
ous to the simple-hearted man whose faithfulness 
to the great yearnings of humanity was sorely to 
be tried. Pope Alexander, raging with fear for 
himself, twice prohibited the prior of St. Mark's 
from preaching in Florence, and, at length, 
charging him with contumacy and heresy, the 
pope summoned the monk to Rome. 

citizens on the point of refusing to del Nero and his fellow-sufferers 
the appeal they claimed, was this : " Che le leggi medesime conce- 
dono,che per fuggire i tumulti, possonoessere le leggi incaso simile 
dispensate." 



ISO REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 

Savonarola was no theological reformer. How- 
ever much he might lament the iniquities which 
filled his " mother-church," he was her steadfast 
and pious son, even to the end. His arrows were 
aimed at the priests and not at the altars of Rome. 
He would have restored to Catholic worship its 
beauty and solemnity, without changing either its 
nature or its forms. The age in which he lived 
was not prepared to deny popedom altogether, 
but whatever could be its natural expression of 
hostility to the efforts which popedom was still 
making to maintain itself, was faithfully declared 
by Savonarola. He walked in a dim-dawning 
light ; we follow in the glowing noon-time ; but 
it is not our part to deny him, who labored before 
us in the morning, the glory and the gratitude 
which he fairly won. The awakening of such a 
spirit as Luther's was quickened after the early 
slumber of such a spirit as Savonarola's. 

The pope's summons was resisted by the prior, 
who still possessed much cordial support in Flor- 
ence. Yet Savonarola abandoned his pulpit to 
his most trusted follower, Fra Domenico da Pes- 
cia, superior of a Dominican convent at Fiesole, 
and Pope Alexander was content for the present 
with this submission. It was a breathing time to 
the reformer, when he went back to his convent- 
peace and seemed to forget that there was any 
other world for him to dwell in ; but he came 
forth, almost too soon, and the unequal strife be- 



REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 181 

tween him and his enemies was renewed. All 
he had now to depend upon was the fast-sinking 
spirit of his people. Such a storm was raised in 
Rome, as neither magistrates nor citizens in Flor- 
ence dared to meet, and the mark of its rage was 
one brave, single-minded man. The " son of blas- 
phemy," so ran the papal bull, was excommuni- 
cated ; * and, though it might have been difficult to 
decide whether Pope Alexander or Friar Girolamo 
were the real blasphemer, many, who had hitherto 
been wavering between fear and hate of the reform- 
er, were now encouraged to decide against him, 
and there was nothing left for Savonarola but to 
defend himself unto the last. Not yet would he 
yield his life-long purposes to despair, but, counting 
upon the love of his better followers, he went back 
to his pulpit in the early spring-time of 1498. His 
words were tender and fresh and hopeful even in 
those dark-winged hours. The warmth of his 
nature was kindled to fanaticism, and he began 
to believe that Heaven would sustain him by mir- 
acles. We care to hear no more about these pro- 
phecies and pretensions of his, than about any for- 
gotten delusions of other men, yet that these were 
believed in his life- time, is more than proved by 
the request of Gian Francesco della Mirandola, 



* The common causes of this sentence are reported hy the Floren- 
tine historian Nardi, (lib. III.) " La prima era che essendo citato a 
Roma, non aveva voluto comparire ; la seconda perche ei predicava 
eretica e perversa dottrina." 



182 REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 

who besought Savonarola to bring back to life his 
uncle Pico, then dead for many years. Savona- 
rola, himself, once offered to try his supernatural 
power with any of his adversaries by raising up a 
corpse from its sepulchre. It is necessary to know 
these things, and to comprehend the way in which 
they were known to the Florentines, in order to 
look back upon Savonarola as he was, not merely 
as he might have been. As a prophet he was 
mistaken, just as he was mistaken as a politician ; 
but there was so much in which he was not mis- 
taken, that there need be no doubt about " speak- 
ing reverently of such a really great man." * The 
world, in which his spirit dwelt, was filled with 
shapes, vast and unreal, which he followed about, 
until he was lost in their mystery. If he was a 
fanatic, it was not for his own sake but for his 
solemn cause; yet we would rather try his strength 
than his weakness, even as we forget that Alex- 
ander called himself the son of Jove, or that Na- 
poleon believed in an unchristian fate. It is easier 
to do men dishonor than to do them honor. 

At last, there came to Florence a hot-brained 
Franciscan friar, named Fra Francesco da Puglia, 
commissioned by the pope to preach against 
the heresies of her reformer on his own ground. 
He soon gathered about him a motley crowd of 
Savonarola's enemies, although his inability to 

* " Io non voglio giudicare . . perche d'un tanto uomo se ne debbe 
parlare con riverenza." Machiavelli. Disc, sopra Tito Livio. I. 11. 



REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 183 

put down the man they feared by honest argu- 
ment, was soon proved. Full of disappointment 
and malignity, Fra Francesco proposed that his 
truth and Savonarola's should be tried by their 
passing together through flames. There are many 
different stories about the manner in which this 
strange offer was received ; but this, at least, is 
clear, that Savonarola refused the trial for himself, 
although he was persuaded to consent that his 
eager disciple Fra Domenico de Pescia should ac- 
cept it in his place. We can fully share calm 
Muratori's surprise at "the revival of a trial so 
terrible and so long forgotten, at the end of the 
fifteenth century, by monks of Florence, and even 
with the consent of Girolamo Savonarola, a man 
not less celebrated for piety than for profound 
learning." It was not because Girolamo Savona- 
rola was w anting in self-confidence, for he had 
trusted in himself through more than one hard 
time ; nor that he believed in the efficiency of 
such struggles against Providence, for he was de- 
voutly humble through all his mysticism ; but it 
was, perhaps, that he feared to lose the people's 
faith and his disciples' love, by resisting alone a 
violence of spirit, from which he was himself not 
wholly pure. Nearly all his monks would have 
gone through fire or water for their prior, in full 
faith of being saved alive. Francesco da Puglia, 
however, refused to expose himself with any other 
companion than Savonarola himself, but another 



184 REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 

Franciscan monk, Fra Bartolommeo Rondinelli, 
came forward to take the place of Fra Francesco, 
who was not much of a champion by nature. 
Pope Alexander was delighted with him, and 
wrote to the Franciscans as a body, thanking them 
for this devotion of one among their number to 
the honor of popedom, now directly set against 
reform. 

The preparations for the fiery trial, eagerly 
awaited by priests, magistrates, and citizens in 
Florence, were soon made by ten commissioners, 
equally chosen from among the Weepers and the 
Madmen, names more than ever appropriate to 
passions, themselves flames. A scaffolding, eight 
feet high, twelve wide, and eighty long, with a 
space left open in the centre for a passage way, 
and covered at the sides with earth, on which the 
fire might be built, was quickly constructed in 
the public square. 

When the day comes, (the seventh of April, 
1498,) it brings scenes for us to look upon. In 
the early morning, Savonarola celebrates high 
mass, and declares, from the pulpit, his belief in 
the goodness of his cause, and his trust in super- 
natural assistance from Heaven. " So far as the 
result is revealed to me," he says, " I can see 
that Fra Domenico will pass through the flames 
uninjured, if the trial be made at all ; " but the 
prophet's eyes were already grown dim. He be- 



REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 185 

seeches the prayers of his brethren for their cham- 
pion, gives them his blessing from a troubled 
heart, and then, at the head of the Dominicans, 
walks forth towards the square, followed by men, 
women and children, bearing lighted torches and 
chanting, with loud voices, the verse of their famil- 
iar psalm, "Let the Lord arise, and let His ene- 
mies be scattered before Him." 

The square is half filled with troops of armed 
men, defenders of one party or the other, and 
with people excited almost to frenzy, by their hopes 
and fears for the trial before them. Savonaro- 
la's appearance is hailed with many different 
signs of affection and confidence, hate and dread. 
Five hundred young men of the Compagnacci, 
Evil-Companions to an evil cause, came with the 
Franciscans. "Well is it known," cries old Bur- 
lamachi, in honest rage, " well is it known that 
the purpose of these bad men is none other than 
to kill father Girolamo here, where he stands with 
us." But father Girolamo has a stout defender 
named Marcuccio Salviati, a brave soldier him- 
self, who is there with three hundred well-armed 
men. In the midst of hot and reckless enmity, 
like this among the Florentines, there is no other 
chance, it seems, for judging great principles, 
than by just such an ordeal as Savonarola has 
accepted, and of this there can be no other issue 
but failure to him. The magistrates, sitting in 
state before the public palace on the square, now 



186 REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 

name two commissioners from each party to 
watch over the peace and safety of their people ; 
but had each commissioner a hundred eyes and a 
hundred arms, his duty would be mournfully 
impossible. One half of the Loggia de' Signori, — 
a portico before which the scaffolding is built, — 
one half of this is occupied by the Franciscans, 
the other by the Dominicans. Savonarola and 
his followers keep on reciting prayers and psalms, 
while Domenico da Pescia remains kneeling, more 
in faith, than in doubt of triumph. But neither 
Bartolommeo Rondinelli, the Franciscan martyr, 
nor Francesco da Puglia, the renowned proposer 
of the trial, is any where to be seen. Savonarola, 
at least, has the advantage of fanatic resolution, 
but that Savonarola shared all the fevered hopes 
of his brethren, it is impossible to believe. 

The day is cold, and rain is falling upon the 
people, all parched with expectation. Some sign 
appears, at last, that the trial is to be made. Men 
stand with lighted torches upon the scaffolding, 
and the friars are grouped about their champions 
before the open chapels. But not yet; for the 
Franciscans declare that Domenico da Pescia is 
protected by some prepared robes, and insist upon 
his changing them. " Be it so," says Savonarola, 
" and bid Fra Alessandro take thy robes, Dome- 
nico, so that thou shalt wear his through the fire." 
Fra Alessandro, one of the youngest Dominicans, 
hears himself called, — called, as he thinks, to take 



REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 187 

Fra Domenico' s place, — and, far from fearing un- 
looked-for danger, cries out, u Te Deum lauda- 
mus," and hastens to ask the priest's blessing. 
There could be given us no more touching proof 
of the trust which is put in Savonarola by his 
brethren. Yet again there is delay ; and the 
Franciscans object that Fra Domenico should 
bear his crucifix through the flames ; but to this 
the Dominicans will not yield, maintaining that 
" battle should not be done for Christ's sake with- 
out Christ's arms." The populace begin to think 
that their spectacle is to fail them ; and many, 
weary and wet with rain, go away from the 
square. The presiding magistrates lose their 
patience, and order proclamation to be made that 
the monks retire in peace, not, however, without 
allowing the commissioners, helpless as they had 
been, to declare that the Franciscans had prevent- 
ed the trial by their own obstinacies and fears. 

But the followers of the Franciscans are the 
Evil-Companions, and they, caring nothing what- 
ever about Fra Domenico or Fra Bartolommeo, but 
very bitterly intent against the reformer they have 
always hated, are now moving towards the chapel 
in the Loggia. Savonarola is in danger, but is 
saved, to-day, at least, by Marcuccio Salviati, 
who stands forth and marks with his sword a line 
upon the ground. " He who crosses this line, let 
him beware !" he cries to the threatening Evil- 
Companions ; and they, seeing his stout form and 



188 REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 

his stoutly armed soldiers in their way. give up, foi 
the present, their purposes against Savonarola. 
Then the prior, still defended by Salviati, leads 
back his monks to St. Mark's, and there, from his 
church-pulpit, recounts the confused history of 
this tedious and unsuccessful day. Night comes, 
presently, and the worn and exhausted reformer 
seeks his cell, to dream, perhaps, of peace he will 
never again have among men.* 

The conflict through which Savonarola had 
sincerely and unflinchingly toiled, was at an end. 
One day had apparently changed all his earnest 
hopes into failing memories. His reforms of cus- 
tom, charity, art, education, government, and wor- 
ship, were struck down by the issue of a single 
and a fanatic enterprise. So it seems ; but it was 
not as it seemed. The trial was after more secret 
forms ; the cause depended upon more solemn 
principles ; and the judgment was a judgment of 
Heaven. 

Forty-eight hours after the scenes upon the 
square were finished, St. Mark's was surrounded, at 
vespers, by the Evil-Companions, now determined 
to satisfy their rage against Savonarola. Many 
of the citizens were with them, either persuaded 

* That cell in St. Mark's, composed of two small rooms, is still to 
be seen. Above the door are these poor words engraved : Has ccl- 
lulas, Ven. F. Hieronymus Savonarola, Vir Apostolicus, inhabitavit. 
A few pieces of Savonarola's robes are preserved in the convent- 
sacristy. 



REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 189 

that the man to whom they owed so much, had been 
guilty of great sin in wishing to send a crucifix 
with his champion, Domenico, into the fire, or 
blindly borne against him, in spite of better mem- 
ories. After all his preachings they were eager 
to have their passions for their laws. Coming 
through the open street, the mob of Evil-Com- 
panions murdered a young man, whom they over- 
took, reciting his prayers aloud, and, before the 
convent itself, they slew an artisan, belonging to 
one of the shops built round St. Mark's, because 
he came out, " slippers in hand," to remonstrate 
against their madness. Woe to Savonarola, but 
greater woe to them ! 

The convent doors were hastily closed, and the 
brethren, with some steadfast citizens, gathered 
round the prior. He would have gone out alone 
with robe and cross to meet his enemies ; but, en- 
treated to remain, he called his disciples, and 
kneeled in their midst, before the altar, awaiting 
whatever might befall him, in prayer. One of the 
principal citizens, Francesco Valori, who came 
perhaps, as was his wont, to vespers at St. 
Mark's, now went out to summon Florence to 
rescue her only real friend from death. The 
crowd, thundering at the church-doors, fell upon 
him when he came forth, and murdered him with- 
out fear. His death was the omen of Savona- 
rola's destruction. Into the very church broke 
the Evil-Companions,; shooting at the frightened 



190 REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 

monks, but gallantly resisted by such citizens as 
happened to have arms, and to be there with Sa- 
vonarola. 

Darkness and dismay were prolonged through 
many slow hours ; — men were lying dead or 
wounded upon the church-pavement, and the air 
was filled with far other smoke than that from 
incense ; — but there, in that scene of sacrilegious 
uproar, before a dimly-lighted altar, and in the 
midst < f tiii id-hearted monks, the prior still knelt, 
praying for them, for himself, and even aloud for 
his enemies. At three o'clock in the morning, 
came messengers from the magistrates to summon 
Savonarola before them. He asked only for pro- 
tection against the violence of evil men, and then 
turned to bid his brethren farewell. It was the 
last time that he spoke to them, and, after all the 
excitement of that tempestuous night, his words 
were gentle as when be sat with them beneath 
the trees of the convent-garden, in peaceful hours. 
"I am ready," he tells them now, " to bear all 
things with joy in the Lord's love, for in nothing 
else can a Christian life consist than doing good 
and enduring evil." He gave back to the monks 
the keys of office entrusted to him in better times, 
and, asking their prayers, as if he had foreboding 
of what was to come, he went away, leaving them 
in tears. The ever-faithful Domenico da Pescia 
and another friar, named Silvestro Maruffi, ac- 
companied their master. They were directly led 



REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 191 

to prison, amid the insults of men for whom Sa- 
vonarola had lived, and for whom he was to die. 
The branch was broken and trampled down, even 
by those to whom its blossoms were once a de- 
light as its fruits were now a shame. 



IV. 



The magistrates, in power at the time of Sa- 
vonarola's imprisonment, were of wholly different 
principles, religious and political, from those of 
the fallen reformer. The tendency of things, ever 
since the repulse of Pietro de' Medici, had been 
towards the rejection, sooner or later, of Savona- 
rola. They among the Weepers who were still 
attached to their chief counsellor, were yet quite 
unable to save him, and so rapidly did their num- 
bers fail, that to save themselves it was necessary 
to abandon the faith they had but briefly followed. 
" No crime," says the historian, Nardi, "now 
seemed greater than that of having believed in 
friar Girolamo." 

Savonarola, in his prison, looked out upon a 
changed world from which his labors, full and 
long, already seemed swept away. Still he was 
blessed in his own virtue and affection, and, al- 
though he himself might be rejected, there was 



192 REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 

joy unspeakable and indestructible from what he 
had done in love for mankind. His reforms had 
come to an end, not because they were impossible, 
but because they had been begun too early, con- 
tinued too imprudently, and carried too far to be 
secure. He was an enthusiast, and his enthusi- 
asm had deceived him ; he was simple-hearted, 
and his simplicity exposed him to injury ; he was 
stern, even with much charity, and his sternness 
made him enemies among men whom he could 
never, perhaps, have made his friends. Yet nei- 
ther in severity, nor in simplicity, nor in enthusi- 
asm, was there any great wrong that could rise up 
against his heart, in those dungeon-hours, which 
were his last. He had " fought a good fight," 
he had "kept the faith" in which he believed, 
and, as he had taught men how to live, he was 
willing to teach them how to die.* 

Before the Grand Council of Florence, the very 
. 1 

* Some lines Savonarola wrote, when he was younger, must have 
returned to his memory : 

" Non star, cuor mio, piu meco ; 
Se viver vuoi in pace, 
Vanne a Gesu e sta seco, 
Che '1 mondo e si fallace, 
Che ormai a lui non piace 
Se non chi e traditore. 

" Se tu stai qui in terra, 
Sara tua vita amara, 
In ogni luogo e guerra, 
E fede, e pace, e rara; 



REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 193 

council created by him whom it was now almost 
fearful to name aloud, there was one man, and 
only one, bold enough to defend Savonarola. 
Agnolo Niccolini declared it "an impious and an 
execrable deed to stain Florence with the blood of 
one so great and so rare as father Girolamo ;" but 
though the good Agnolo spoke bravely, he spoke 
in vain. Sixteen judges, taken from among Sa- 
vonarola's enemies, were soon collected about him, 
as if they had been demons rioting over the plun- 
der of a great spirit, and put him to tortures, 
which his frame was too weak and sensitive to 
bear. A confession against himself was forced 
from him, but it was retracted as soon as he was 
loosened from torment. Again he was bound and 
torn ; again he confessed ; again he denied ; say- 
ing resolutely, that whatever pain might wring 
from him was all untrue. In the midst of severest 
agony, he prayed aloud that his persecutors might 
be softened and forgiven. The blessings of a 
holy heart were upon him, even in that terrible 
judgment-chamber. 

" Refreshed from heaven, 
He calms the throb and tempest of his heart. 
His countenance settles ; a soft, solemn bliss 
Swims in his eye — his swimming eye upraised ; 
And Faith's whole armor glitters on his limbs! " 

Se '1 te la vita cara, 

Vanne al divin splendore." 
Some of these hours of imprisonment were employed in writing a 
long and earnest exposition of the Miserere, which was afterwards 
printed, and is still preserved. 

13 



194 REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 

Savonarola had need of "Faith's whole armor" 
to protect his spirit against the angry passions 
which burst upon him from all sides. Pope Alex- 
ander, rejoicing with unchristian vehemence, sent 
to Florence his own commissioners, bearing or- 
ders to hasten the condemnation of the long- 
feared reformer in spite of any proofs of innocence. 
Before these men and his Florentine judges, Sa- 
vonarola was again brought out from the prison, 
where he had been kept more than a month 
already, and when they had sufficiently charged 
him with heresy, sacrilege, and sedition, he was 
condemned, with his brethren Domenico and Sil- 
vestro, to be burned. 

There was too little left to Savonarola that 
he should be vexed by love of the world or fear 
of death. He prayed for his companions on 
the last morning they were to see, (May 29th, 
1498,) and together, they and he went forth 
to die upon the same square which their festi- 
vals had filled with sunshine and devotion. No 
one of these three was now unfaithful to the 
solemn memories and the more solemn hopes, 
which neither popes, nor judges, nor devils could 
take from them. Already assembled in public, 
upon the square, were magistrates and prelates 
waiting, as criminals a reprieve, the end of a life 
which for them had been spent in vain. There, 
too, were citizens looking on, some daring to re- 
joice, but most, it is to be hoped, only fearing 



REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 195 

to mourn aloud. Then, among this crowd of wit- 
nesses, came Savonarola, earnest as he was al- 
ways, but serener in look and gentler in manner 
than he had seemed to the people when they most 
revered him. A bishop proclaimed that by au- 
thority of the pope, Savonarola was separated 
from the communion of the church triumphant ; 
but "Not so," answered the still resolute friar, 
" for only from the communion of the church 
militant can the pope separate me." The three 
victims, stripped of their priestly robes, were led 
forward to hear their sentence repeated before all 
the people, and were then taken to the scaffold. 
Some one exhorted Savonarola to be of good 
cheer, for the works he had done would not fail. 
"Man," he answered, "hath no need of human 
praise to be contented, nor is this life the time of 
glory." The confessor, who had been with him 
through his last hours, asked if he had anything 
more to say. "No more," was the calm reply, 
" than to ask your prayers, and to entreat my fol- 
lowers to bear patiently the sufferings my death 
may bring them." Memorable words of forgive- 
ness and sacrifice ! The crowd shouted, as the 
monks were bound by the executioner, that the 
time for the prophet's boasted miracles was come, 
and, lo ! the flames, just kindled, are driven back 
by a gust of wind, and the miracle seems accom- 
plished ; yet not so, for again the fire rises fast, leav- 



196 REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 

ing still untouched Savonarola's arm, outstretched 
it was seen, as if to bless his ungrateful people.* 
Savonarola was but forty-five years old when 
he died, "worthy," as Muratori says, " of better 
fortune." But what that unknown voice spoke 
to him on the scaffold, that his good works would 
abide with men, was true in spite of strife and 
sacrifice. The shepherd was slain, and his flock 
was driven out from green meadows upon stony 
lands: but the pastures it was forced to leave, 
had not given their nourishment in vain. " Let a 
man do his work ; the fruit of it is the care of 
Another than he."f One Madonna of Fra Bar- 
tolommeo's painting, one verse of deeper poetry 
from Benivieni,J one hope of heaven bound to 

* " Dum fera flamma tuos, Hieronyme, pascitur artus, 
Religio sanctas dilaniata comas, 
Flevit, et O, dixit, crudeles parcite flammae, 
Parcite, — sunt isto viscera nostra rogo." 

Marc* Antonio Flaminio. 

t Carlyle, in his Hero- Worship. 

t " Non pu6 l'inferma nostra oscura e tarda 

Vista mortal, dal suo soverchio lume 

Vinta in tutto, passar di la del fiume. 

" Dal bel fiume gentil, che alcun mortale 
Pie non trascende a le celesti rive, 
Di cui il bel colle surge, ove chi sale, 
Per non mai piu morir contento vive, 
E dove il nudo mio cor con quelle ale, 
Che amor ne impenna a l'alma luci e vive 
Salircrede, al cui specchio si fa bello 
II mondo tutto e cid che alberga in quelle " 

Benivieni. 



REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 197 

earth ; if nothing more were left, Savonarola's 
work was not a failure. They who came close 
after, knew that in him they had still a comforter 
and a benefactor. 

Victis jam spes bona partibus esto 

Exemplumque mei. 

It was not solitary enthusiasm which led Filippo 
Neri, to this day the most popular saint in Italy, 
to keep a bust of Savonarola in his room, or to 
defend the purposes of a life he looked upon as 
noble and sincere. A council of church-doctors, 
in Filippo Neri's time, declared the doctrines of 
the great reformer to be canonical and catholic. 
Raffael placed the Florentine prior among the 
faithful servants of the church in his Fresco of the 
Sacrament, which is still upon the Vatican walls. 
Florence, itself, was speedily filled with writings 
and images, bearing father Girolamo's name, and 
giving grateful justice to his memory. The bless- 
ings of his peace and good- will were bright in con- 
trast with the curses of years which followed, and 
the place where he died was long after, on the 
anniversary of his death, strewn thick with green 
branches and flowers. His writings are now re- 
ceived and read where they were long neglected 
or forbidden ; his portrait is reverently hung in 
the palace-galleries of Italy ; his cell in St. Mark's 
is sacred ground to all Catholic hearts. These 
things are the signs of justice returning to Savona- 



198 REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 

rola. Be they also among many greater signs 
that give us faith in generosity to man and de- 
votion to God, even when generosity and devotion 
seem to have been poured out in vain from human 
souls. The cause, for which Savonarola sacri- 
ficed his peace and his life, is still holy. " This 
work," it was his own prediction, "though I am 
dead, will go on, for it is the work of Christ." 
Liberty and Religion are of things eternal. 



NOTE 



See page 173. 

I add a simple account of the chief among these artists, who 
entered into Savonarola's reforms. They were famous men in their 
times, hut little is known of them among us. 

Andrea della Robbia, who died in 1528, at a very advanced age, 
was a nephew of Luca della Robbia, known more as the inventor of 
a varnish, by which his works in terra cotta are yet preserved, than 
as the sculptor of the works themselves. Andrea inherited his 
uncle's secret, and employed it to his own advantage, although he 
worked in marble as well as in terra cotta. He was a sculptor of 
mystical and saint-like forms, of which the imaginings must have 
come from his constant intercourse with Savonarola. Andrea had 
five sons, two of whom entered the Convent of St. Mark in Savo- 
narola's life-time. The other three followed their father's art, and 
distinguished themselves at Rome and at the Court of Francis First 
of France. Vasari says that " this family della Robbia were al- 
ways the devoted followers of Savonarola, and made likenesses of 
him after the manner which is still to be seen in their medals." 

Lorenzo di Credi died about 1531, seventy-eight years old. He 
had studied painting together with Pietro Perugino and Leonardo 
da Vinci, and proved himself worthy to have been their companion. 
" Lorenzo was very earnest in the sect of Fra Girolamo of Ferrara, 
(Savonarola,) and lived continually as an honest man and one of 
good life, making loving use of courtesy wherever he had the oppor- 
tunity." He was an excellent artist, of tender feelings and graceful 
expressions. His last years were spent in retirement, to which, it 
is supposed, he was inclined by sorrows for his friend Savona- 
rola. 

Sandro Botticelli, both a painter and an engraver, died in 1515, at 
the age of seventy-eight. His long life was filled by industry and 
cheerfulness. His chief works in painting were executed at Rome, 



200 REFORMS OF SAVONAROLA. 

where he was employed by Pope Sixtus IV. to decorate the newly 
built chapel, which Michelagnolo afterwards glorified. In engrav- 
ing, then an awkward art, Botticelli's best labor was spent upon 
" the Triumph of Faith by Fra Girolamo Savonarola, to whose party 
he was so devoted, that it was the cause of his abandoning his art, 
. . . wherefore at last he became old and poor." 

There were other artists whose names are connected with Savo- 
narola's. One was the architect Cronaca, who had been occupied 
in the reformer's best days with works in the palace of the Floren- 
tine Signoria, and who, when his works and his friend's reforms 
were ended, had still " such a frenzy for Savonarola's affairs, that 
he would talk of nothing else than those." Fra Benedetto, a minia- 
ture painter, was one of Savonarola's brethren in St. Mark's. He 
was bold in heart, and devoted to his " father Girolamo." That sad 
night, when the convent and the church were assailed, Fra Benedetto 
armed himself and would have made valiant defence, had he not 
been forbidden by Savonarola. And when, a little later, the prior 
was leaving most of his brethren in tears, this one would have gone 
with him, pressing on, though thrust back by the officers, until father 
Girolamo turned to him and said : " Come not, brother, for I am to 
die." 

There is no account needed here of Fra Bartolommeo. But for 
him, as for these other artists, Vasari's Lives may be consulted 
agreeably. It is from Vasari that most of the quotations in this 
note have been made. 



THE WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 



1520-1522. 



Voz es de tus vasallos, que de serlo 
Testimonio jamas dieroa mas claro, 
Que quando mas traydores te parecen. 

Vicente Garcia de la Huerta. [La Raguel.] 



Attempts to advance the cause of freedom by the sword are incal- 
culably perilous. — Arnold. [App. I. to Thucydides.] 



WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 



I. 



Castile, Old and New, was the largest of the 
Spanish kingdoms united by the monarchy of 
Ferdinand and Isabella. It was the Coro y Cas- 
tilla, the core and citadel of Spain. High moun- 
tain-ranges run their sentinel-lines through north 
and south, through east and west, dividing valleys 
of romantic beauty from wide table-lands of deso- 
late ugliness. The soil, although covering treas- 
ures, is hardly cultivated ; the country is almost 
abandoned by men and beasts ; the towns are 
distant from each other, and communication is 
difficult and insecure. Spain's great rivers are 
here only narrow streams, flowing in channels of 
separation rather than of union. It looks like a 
sluggish region, where the dingy olive-tree might 
grow in peace ; yet it is swept by winds well nigh 
wild enough to move the mountains themselves, 
withering the ground's strength, and making even 



204 WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 

man's life tempestuous. Castile is just as it al- 
ways has been, geographically, the country of a 
divided, a backward, and a passionate people. 
The unity which has actually belonged to Cas- 
tilians is wholly historical, that is, wholly acci- 
dental to their broken land. The early history 
and character of the Castilian race have united 
it through all time. The language they spoke 
has become the only common language of Spain. 
Their blood is the oldest and purest in Spanish 
veins, and they have been the bloom of the Span- 
ish nation, (robur Hispanise.) Their strangely 
compounded laws (of Roman, Gothic, Ecclesiasti- 
cal, and purely Spanish elements,) have gained the 
mastery in Spain, and have almost forced its 
people to be grave and indolent. The excellence 
of the Castilian stock, viejo y rancio, ancient and 
rank as it is, springs from its independence of life, 
blossoming through centuries of confusion and 
bigotry and blood. 

We must go back to its very origin, and watch 
the sowing of the seeds, although it be but a 
blighted harvest that we are afterwards to find in 
the War of the Castilian Communities in the six- 
teenth century. 

It was so far back as the early years of the 
eighth century, when the cloud, arisen out of the 
East, " like a man's hand," was throwing broad 
shadows and dark all over Europe, that the storm 
of Saracen invasion burst upon Spain. Reft of 



WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 205 

lands and subjects, vainly defended and hastily- 
abandoned, the old Gothic monarchy of the Pe- 
ninsula crumbled and fell. Some there were, few 
in number but brave in soul, who escaped beyond 
the northern mountains, content to bear long 
years of toil and peril, so that they might still 
have a Christian king, and still tread upon their 
fathers' soil. To those Gothic warriors, heart- 
whole in the midst of change and ruin, Spain 
owes all that she has now, all that she has had in 
other years. They were brave and free and pious 
men. The new-born kingdom of Oviedo, which 
they established amongst their mountains, grew 
into vigorous youth. Its people were a united and 
an independent people, acknowledging no other 
authority than that of warrior-nobles and warrior- 
kings. When they had armed themselves anew 
with strong hopes and abundant energies, they 
drew their swords again, and called upon their 
chief to lead them down upon the far-stretching 
plains which were still in the keeping of the 
stranger Moors. The course of mountain-stream, 

" In strength, in speed, in fury, and in joy," 

is not swifter nor surer than the course of those 
mountain heroes. As far as to the Ocean on the 
West, and to the Ebro on the East, were borne the 
Christian banners, and the kingdom of Oviedo was 
increased to the large kingdom of Leon. Freedom 
found " wings on every wind " of memory and of 
hope. The old Spaniard's chief principle, from 
which he never departed in love, warfare, or de- 



206 WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 

votion, was to maintain his personal dignity un- 
blemished. The higher classes were cavaliers, 
the lower classes were foot-soldiers, — this was the 
great difference between them, — and, where all 
armed for the same cause and fought in the same 
fight, it was impossible that any should be slaves. 
A town, newly conquered from the Saracens, had 
need of free citizens, because its inhabitants were 
its only defenders. Each one of the cities chose 
its own magistrates, and governed its own neigh- 
borhood generally, according to forms which were 
descended to them from the time of the Roman 
dominion. The liberty, which had sprung up 
in the mountains of Oviedo descended upon the 
plains of Castile. It was not everywhere wel- 
comed with the same loyalty of soul. It was 
delayed by want of spirit, and broken by want 
of union, but was still there, in Castile, and 
while it remained, there was hope unfailing. The 
presence of such enemies as the Saracens was the 
best of all helps to Spanish freedom. The kings 
who were most successful in warfare were most 
benevolent in legislation, although it must be con- 
fessed, that in this they were not more moved by 
kingly generosity towards a gallant people than 
by unkingly fear of a restless enemy, or, often, 
of their own boisterous nobility. But the people 
were safe as long as they were free, and the days 
of their freedom were the days of their glory. 

The liberties of Castile existed not only in the 
Communities, or Cities, but in the Cortes, or Con- 



WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 207 

gress of the kingdom. The Cortes was originally 
composed of nobles and prelates only, but as the 
wealth and importance of the communities in- 
creased, their deputies were also summoned to 
minister to the necessities of the crown, (1215). 
The story of the Castilian kings is a strange con- 
fusion of romantic adventure and unromantic 
beggary. The simple truth about the Cortes is, 
that the deputies of the Communities were called 
to it, because King Alonzo XI. was in sore strait 
for money, which none of his lords, state-lords or 
church-lords, in the Cortes, would give him. It 
was full half a century before anything was heard 
of the English commons, and such representative 
liberty in Castile was, of course, very feeble and 
very awkward. The deputies of the cities were 
chosen by the magistrates, and not by the people, 
of which the lower orders had no sort of voice or 
influence in the matter. Not many cities sent any 
deputies at all in the beginning of the sixteenth 
century, but at that period, nobles and priests had 
left the field in the Cortes clear to the citizens, 
who were alone represented. The pretensions of 
those worthy creatures, the citizens, are not to be 
mistaken for their powers. They could do little 
more than vote petitions very willingly and sup- 
plies very unwillingly to their kings.* They 
maintained their right to approve and even to re- 

* " Te dare dinero si me das las leyes que necesita el reino." This 
was a sort of contract between the Cortes and the Crown. 



208 WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 

ject the royal laws, yet, in spite of their proud de- 
claration that " no law could be made or renewed 
but by the Cortes," the Castilian kings were mas- 
ters of their own legislation.* On the other hand, 
the Cortes were always concerned in the most 
important interests of government, and bore them- 
selves through trials and watches like trusty senti- 
nels, with courage and fidelity. Their assemblings, 
from time to time, are good land-marks upon the 
expanse of Castilian history. 

The earliest hostility to the steadily increasing 
freedom of Castile, came from the nobles. Their 
ambition was beyond the king's control, much 
before their profligacy grew to be beyond the peo- 
ple's endurance. The petitions of the Cortes to 
the crown were crowded with complaints against 
the nobility, who were often 

" bloody, 
Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful, 
Sudden, malicious, smacking of every sin 
That has a name." 

They were the Ricos Hombres, the Rich Men, 
and Castile was long as much at their mercy as if 
they had bought both king and kingdom. The 
people were obliged to defend themselves, and, for 
self-protection's sake, joined together through their 
cities in Hermandades or Brotherhoods, which 
often resisted and sometimes revenged the cruelties 

* " Donde quieren reyes, ahi van leyes," as kings like, so laws go, 
is, and has been, a true Spanish saying. 



WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 209 

done to the common citizens by the nobles, much: 
too powerful to be dealt with singly. These con- 
federacies were wisely and warmly encouraged 
by the crown, and the great principle of union 
was gained for the people. Isabella, of still-loved 
memory, placed herself at the head of a Brother- 
hood, formed in the early part of her reign, with 
the object of restoring peace and prosperity to her 
desolate and divided kingdom. At her bidding, 
and by the energetic action of the Communities, 
the nobles were obliged to yield their claims to 
privileges unprincipled and uncontrolled. 

The strength of aristocracy declined, and the 
strength of royalty increased apace. The old' ele- 
ments of feudality began to break asunder, and 
from their ruins were built up the strongholds of 
central, national, royal power. This was a real 
want of society in the fifteenth century, in a time 
full of vicissitudes and creations, when bold ener- 
gies needed strong supports. The Dark Ages were 
ended in the light and hope just given to men, and 
the first reports of the newly invented artillery of 
Europe, were like salutes to the coming destinies 
of mankind. The grave of ancient Learning was 
opened, and the miracle of its resurrection begun. 
All the interests of every-day industry were en- 
larged by adventures beyond the seas. Kings 
upon their thrones caught the far-reaching enthu- 
siasm, and stretched out their sceptres to mark 
their own lion's-shares. All they claimed, and 

14 



210 WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 

more, was yielded to them. Monarchy was 
strengthened and extended in principle, perhaps 
that one anchor, at least, might hold in this flood- 
tide of human fortunes. As it happened through- 
out Europe, so it happened in Spain, that royal 
power rose far above all other power. Ferdinand 
and Isabella were upon the throne, and in them 
their people trusted. But the Communities were 
restless, and began to fear that their independence 
was threatened with greater dangers than the old 
nobles had ever brought upon them. However 
reasonable such fears were, it was an ill-omened 
time for confederacies or rebellions. 

The war of the Communities broke out sixteen 
years after Isabella's death. While she lived to 
govern her people and her husband Ferdinand, 
all was well with Spain. The devotion, which 
bore the Catholic standard to the Alhambra 
towers, was equally earnest in making the patho- 
lic kingdom worthy of its increasing dominion. 
The nobles were subdued, the people were pro- 
tected and the national interests were joined 
together in one. Spain discovered to her amaze- 
ment that she had a government which her people 
might obey without losing pride or independence. 
Then (1504,) Isabella died, and left empty a 
throne that has never yet been filled as in her 
memorable reign. Ferdinand, escaped from her 
control, could not escape the influences she had 
spread about him, and, awhile, pursued the same 



WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 211 

objects which her hopes had made holy to Spain. 
But he was selfish and insincere in the exercise of 
his power, and, not content w r ith triumphs gained 
over the nobility, he began to covet the already 
diminished privileges of the people. Ferdinand 
was faithless to the great purposes of monarchy. 
He established its might, but he could not establish 
its right, by thinking that Spain was made for him 
and not he for Spain. The liberties of his people 
were in real danger from the authority of superior 
and arbitrary laws. Philip Second, who reigned 
fifty years later, once told his son that he owed all 
his power to Ferdinand, but the gift of such des- 
potism did not deserve his gratitude. Ferdinand 
died, twelve years after Isabella, leaving the throne 
of Spain to their grandson Charles, (1516.) We 
must briefly follow the first years of his reign. 



IL 

Charles the First — better known to us as 
Charles the Fifth Emperor of Germany, — was the 
grandson of Austrian Maximilian, on the side of 
his father, Archduke Philip, that son-in-law whom 
Isabella could not love. In whatever Charles was 
unlike to his father and grandfathers, one passion 
he inherited from them all, the passion of absolute 
power. His grave and obstinate demeanor was 



212 WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 

the outward expression of a haughty and resolute 
soul. With all his self-will, he possessed great 
and attractive accomplishments, and might easily 
have made himself loved, instead of making him- 
self feared. He was a boy, only sixteen years 
old, when the throne of Spain fell to his inheri- 
tance, but he had been born and bred in distant 
Flanders, and neither spoke the language, nor felt 
the associations, nor comprehended the rights, 
which belonged to his stranger people. Cold as 
was its light to them, his rising star was followed 
by eyes, that would never have wearied of watch- 
ing, and hearts, that would never have ceased 
from loving, had it not been hid from them at 
last, by fast-gathering wrongs. 

So soon as Charles heard, at Brussels, of Ferdi- 
nand's death, he declared himself king, without 
either awaiting the proclamation of the Cortes, a 
right his people valued, or regarding the honor 
which belonged to the name, at least, of his poor 
mother, Joanna, whom the Castilians looked upon 
as their queen, the daughter of their dearly remem- 
bered Isabella.* The young king meant to make 
his authority clear, from the beginning, but he also 
made it, as he did not mean to do, usurping and 
suspected. He seized upon the work, begun before 

* Joanna was in Tordesillas, a Castilian city, watching, as she had 
done for the last ten years, by the coffin of her handsome husband, the 
Archduke Philip. He had never loved her, but she worshipped him, 
and his death bereft her of her senses. 



WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 213 

him, of tearing down all other images than those of 
his own royalty. Ferdinand had appointed Cardi- 
nal Ximenes, already called a third sovereign [ter- 
tius rex,] to the regency of Spain. Him Charles 
acknowledged, but in association with a regent of 
his own appointment, Cardinal Adrian of Utrecht, 
who had been a very good preceptor to the young 
prince, but who proved an utterly incapable min- 
ister to the young king. Ximenes claimed and 
exercised superior authority. His regency was 
successful in strengthening the outward supports 
of his master's throne, but his imperious commands 
kindled many heart-burnings in Castile, and Spain 
was, throughout, a troubled country, when the 
stranger-king landed upon its shores. The Cas- 
tilians were not a people to be trifled with, even 
by Cardinal Ximenes. The old passion for inde- 
pendence was fresh yet in their souls. What the 
Community of Valladolid wrote to Charles when 
he was still in Brussels, was what all Spain would 
have repeated : " We recall to your remembrance 
the noble things which belong to your kingdom, — 
the grandees who shall bear your orders, — the 
people full of spirit and valor, — the land so strong 
and so abundant, that while all have need of it, it 
hath need of none, — and how, while other nations 
supplied Rome with food, Spain gave her Empe- 
rors." 

Charles was impatient to take possession of this 
strong and abundant land, and soon sailed away 



214 WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 

from Flanders. On the 13th of September, 1517, 
the year after Ferdinand's death, the young king 
of Castile and of Leon landed at Yillaviciosa, on 
the northern coast of his kingdom, amid acclama- 
tions warm from the lips, at least, of his subjects, 
who had looked for him "with open arms and 
beating hearts." The Castilians had " no other 
desire," says Peter Martyr, " than to obey its 
King, if its King would but rightly govern them. 
. . . Yet even the laziest horses," he continues, 
"if vexed with spurs, will turn their heels against 
their master, and I know not the people to whom 
the like would happen sooner than to the Span- 
iards."* His first act was to break the heart of 
his and his father's faithful servant Ximenes, by 
refusing to see him. His next was to send away 
his own brother, the Infant Ferdinand, to the 
German court of his grandfather Maximilian. 
Ferdinand was the idol of the people among 
whom he had been born and educated. It was 



* Peter Martyr, Opus Epistolarium. Ep. 567, 568. The predic- 
tion (written in May, 1516,) is remarkable: "Audita Principis natura, 
diligitur, observatur, desideratur ore aperto. Legum perversio amo- 
rem solet in odium convertere. Veniat avita secuturus vestigia et 
felices gustabit successus : si diverterit, Hispanorum animos elatos, 
licet nunc, ob partam et longo tempore a Catholicis ejus matemis 
avis nutritam pacem, dormiant, expergefaciet in aliquem errorem, 
quod Deus avertat." lb. Ep. 568. Peter Martyr was not only a 
shrewd but generally a disinterested observer of things in Spain. 
His account of events in the war of 1520- 1522 is against the Com- 
moners, but he had basked too long in the sunshine of the Spanish 
court, to be much inclined to favor any sort of popular sedition. 



WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 215 

something more than boyish jealousy which in- 
duced his brother to dismiss him from the king- 
dom, and yet it was well for Ferdinand that he 
escaped the temptation of taking part in the near- 
approaching war. But the rejection of the old 
minister and the exile of the young prince were 
evil omens to Spain. Others followed with the 
fast-succeeding difficulties that came between the 
people and their king. 

More than anything else Charles needed reve- 
nues, not only for himself but for the Flemings, 
who came with him in greedy swarms, preying 
upon the Spaniards, it was said, as the Spaniards 
preyed upon the Indians of America. Within 
the first year of their appearance in Spain, besides 
all they devoured at once, they sent home to con- 
sume at more leisure the positive sum of eleven 
hundred thousand ducats, or nearly ten millions 
of our dollars.* Foremost among them all, was 
Guillaume de Croy, the lord of Chievres, who 
had been the king's governor in Flanders, and 
was now his chief minister in Spain. This man, 
threescore years old, digested gold, the Spaniards 
said, as rapidly as an ostrich makes way with 
iron. He was called the "bottomless abyss," the 
" steersman whom no pay could satisfy." and was 

* Peter Martyr's lamentations are always quaint: "Quo magisillis 
guttura replet, eo latius ipsi gutlura pandunt." (Ep. 631.) Or: " Gla- 
cialis Oceani accolse ditabuntur, vestra expilabitur Castella." (Ep. 
606.) 



216 WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 

everywhere the object of most especial hatred, not 
only because he was filling himself with plunder, 
but more because he offended the pride of a loyal 
people by governing their own king.* One of 
Charles's most devout historians, Sandoval, ac- 
knowledges that the king began to be abhorred 
and even to be regarded as wanting understand- 
ing, so darkly was he seen through crowds of 
stranger courtiers. All the highest offices of church 
and state were flung at the feet of Flemings, 
and those they would not stoop to take, were not 
given, but sold to native Spaniards. "And they 
begin to murmur," writes one of the old chroni- 
clers, " saying that the king no longer signs and 
the council no longer decides anything, — that 
bishops leave their sees and secretaries plunder 
their offices, — that magistrates take bribes, no- 
bles run to riot, and women forget their virtues." 
Words, direct as these, shape themselves into a 
sad picture of evil times. The hatred against 
the strangers was really a principal cause of the 
war which followed close upon their departure 
from Spain. They had snatched, " these Flemish 
gluttons," they had " snatched Spanish bread from 
Spanish jaws," and had treated Spaniards them- 
selves, as though " these last had been born in 
their sewers." No wonder, then, that such as 

*" Don Carlos es Rey segun derecho, y Monsieur deXevresde 
hecho," (Sandoval) ; Charles was king by right, butChievres was 
king in deed. " Regitur, non regit," says Peter Martyr. 



WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 217 

the Castilians were tormented by such as the 
Flemings. 

The Cortes, which were held, both in Castile 
and Aragon, to acknowledge Charles's succession 
to the crown, made some vain efforts to preserve 
the loyalty and the peace of his kingdoms.* But 
Charles was already in full pursuit of the imperial 
crown of Germany, in whose comparison the 
crown of Spain seemed but a bauble. He won 
his election, and welcomed its news with magni- 
ficent festivals at Barcelona. It brought no joy 
to Spain that her king had become the Emperor 
of Germany, and when this king or emperor ask- 
ed the Spanish people for fresh supplies of money 
to pay for a journey and a coronation with which 
they had no concern, they lost their patience and 
determined to yield no more. 

Toledo, once the capital of the Goths, and, long 
afterwards, the capital of Spain, deserved the 
name, which king Alonzo gave it, of Imperial. It 
was a great and noble city, numbering nearly two 
hundred thousand inhabitants at the period of 
the Commoners' War. Built upon seven hills, or 
rather seven rocks, it stood high above the country 
round, " the crown of Spain." Within its walls 
lived nobles, priests and citizens, proud of their 

* One phrase, that the Castilians introduced into their petition, is 
to be recorded : "Acuerdese V. M. que un Rey es mercenario de sus 
subditos ; " your Majesty must remember, that a king is in the pay 
of his subjects. 



218 WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 

home and their distinction as Toledans. The 
great cathedral, a city in itself, believed to have 
been built to the Virgin, while she was yet alive, 
and to be still the scene of her earthly visitings, 
belonged to the Toledan archbishopric, the see 
which Cardinal Ximenes had possessed, the richest 
see in the Catholic world. In church and in state, 
Toledo was preeminent among Spanish cities, and 
from out her community came the first outbreak 
of rebellion against the evil government *of King 
Charles. An embassy of Toledan citizens was 
sent to meet Charles at Barcelona. He gave 
them audience, and listened with unwonted gra- 
ciousness to a bold and tedious harangue from one 
of the Deputies, Don Gonzalo Gaetan, but made 
no other reply than by repeating fair promises 
which had already been given, and already bro- 
ken, to his people. Gonzalo Gaetan' s return to 
Toledo, with no better account of his mission, was 
followed by strange commotions. The city-coun- 
cillors drew their daggers against each other, and 
the citizens were all divided among themselves, 
according to their submission or their indepen- 
dence. Toledo appealed to her sister communi- 
ties, that " they must beseech his Majesty to re- 
main with them in Spain." Neither then, nor in 
the troubled times which followed, would the 
Castilians, generally, renounce their allegiance to 
their sovereign. The war they made was against 
his ministers, and not against him, against the 



WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 219 

errors of his authority, and not against his au- 
thority itself. Even Sandoval, royal historian, 
allows that what they did, was mostly done 
u with much respect to the king and in the fear of 
God." 

Charles went from Barcelona to Valladolid, 
the chief city of Leon, at that time the court 
residence of the Spanish sovereigns, and, through 
its great university, the source of jurisprudence 
to all Spain. The king asked supplies of the 
city magistrates, but they were almost flatly re- 
fused. Not concealing his displeasure, he pre- 
pared his departure from so vexatious a city, and 
was setting out on his way towards the north, 
when suddenly the great bell rang, and six thous- 
and of the citizens assembled in arms to keep 
their king amongst them. They would have 
slain Chievres, perhaps, and his Flemings before 
Charles's very eyes ; but king and courtiers took 
to horse, forced their way through the gates, and 
rode, in a dark and rainy night, to Tordesillas. 
The next day but one, they pushed on to Santi- 
ago, in Calicia, where the Cortes were summoned 
to meet the king and fill a full measure of ducats 
for his voyage to Germany. 

There is an old Spanish proverb that to pro- 
voke the weary or the hungry is to provoke 
Barabbas. • The Castilians were both weary and 
hungry, and it had been wiser for their king to let 
them alone. If money were positively wanted, 



220 WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 

the place to ask for it was surely Castile itself, 
and not a city of Calicia, which appeared to Cas- 
tilians as remote as though it were a city of 
Germany. But Charles seemed bent on throwing 
stones into troubled waters, and watching the 
swell of wrath and danger. Every fresh demand 
aroused some new spirit of strife. The people were 
growing bolder and more turbulent. Even the 
Spanish clergy began to be seditious, and denied 
the king a subsidy which had been granted him 
by Pope Leo. Still Charles looked upon his own 
power as irresistible. He was not only King of 
Spain and Emperor of Germany, but all the south 
of Italy, all the large territories of his Austrian 
House, and all the vast empires, which Cortes and 
Balboa* were opening to him in the New World ; 
all these were his, and he could not fear the 
single insurrection of Castile. Insurrection was 
unnatural to the character of his age. The Com- 
moners' War never became a national enterprise, 
and other seditions springing from narrow sources, 
at the same time, in Valencia and Aragon, were 
never even joined to those in Castile. The thirst 
of Spaniards for adventure or for war might have 
been slaked in many another country than Spain, 
and they began too soon to waste each other's 
blood at home. 

* Pizarro's great enterprise was not yet begun. 



WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 221 



III. 



" From east to west 
A groan of accusation pierces Heaven," — 

and we must give some heed to voices which rise 
above common murmurs. Hernando de Avalos, 
one of Toledo's principal magistrates, was also one 
of her most active defenders. Born of honorable 
lineage and now well-advanced in years, he was 
among the earliest to embrace and among the last 
to abandon the cause of the Communities. He 
was a passionate, but a steadfast Commoner. Pe- 
dro Laso de la Vega, son to one of the great state- 
officers of Leon, is described by the loyal chroni- 
clers of the time, as the most capable person 
among those who took the people's part in this 
bitter war. He was braver in its beginning than 
at its end, and, in spite of his high birth, was far 
from being high-minded. A stouter champion 
than he, was Antonio de Acufia, Bishop of Za- 
mora. This " seditious prelate," as his enemies 
were wont to call him, who, many years before, 
had kept possession of his diocese against King 
Ferdinand's orders, now came forth in his old 
age, to fight at the side of the Commoners. He 
was restless and ambitious, but his zeal seems to 
have been sincere, and he sometimes used his 



222 WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 

influence for mercy's as well as for honor's sake.* 
His house became the resort of all the popular 
leaders, and it was his own servant's story that, 
"none there thought of praying, but all were 
learning the use of their new weapons." Bishop 
Antonio armed and commanded a regiment of four 
hundred priests, whom he was fond of exhorting 
to fight bravely, or, if worst came to the worst, 
to die resolutely in " so just an enterprise." The 
bishop, as they said at the time, was "more of a 
Roland than a priest," yet he did not, we will 
hope, always forget the milder duties of a Chris- 
tian service. Among all the Commoner chiefs, 
the first in rank was Pedro de Giron, a son of the 
great Count de Urena.f But the part he took in 
the war was for " passion, not patriotism," and 
full is the measure of his shame. The names of 
truer Commoners than he have been branded with 
hissing-hot pens, while his has been spared. An- 
tonio de Guevara, one of Charles the Fifth's 
councillors, confesses that u in all this world's 
histories, they who obey the king are accounted 
loyal, and they who rebel are always set down 



* It is very hard for us to understand this Bishop of Zamora. All 
sorts of abusive epithets, — sediiiosus, rabidus, tumultuarius, ebul- 
liens, — are thrown upon him, but there is no graver charge proved 
against him than his bearing arms, which was not then an uncom- 
mon thing for a bishop to do. 

t A name one will often meet in the History of Ferdinand and 
Isabella. 



WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 223 

for traitors." The Commoners have been denied 
credit for the simplest feelings that bind men to 
their country, but the testimonies against them 
are very far from being sure. '-And thus the 
world goes," said Napoleon at St. Helena, "mob, 
robbers, rebels or heroes, according to the chances 
of the strife. Poor humanity ! " And poor Com- 
moners ! fallen, and trampled upon ! There is no 
historian among themselves to tell the story we 
would read more truly than it has yet been told. 
Nevertheless, we will now confide in the sincerity, 
with which Toledo wrote to her sister cities, that 
" in such a cause as theirs, danger is safety, exile 
is glory, loss is gain, persecution is reward, death 
is life, and these, being heroic deeds, can only be 
attempted by lofty hearts." 

One " lofty heart " there was in Toledo itself, 
that we would believe, in defiance of all the 
chroniclers that ever wrote of Spain. It would 
be shameful to doubt it, to doubt the sincerity of 
Juan de Padilla, the hero-spirit of the Commoners. 
He was the son of the Grand Seneschal of Castile, 
and but thirty years old, when these quarrels be- 
gan between his country and his sovereign. All 
his family adhered to royalty, all save his wife, a 
daughter of the Count de Tendilla, a woman of 
noble birth and noble mind. Padilla, sharing the 
zeal of Hernando de Avalos, obeyed the generous 
impulses which bade him side with the weakest 
and the wronged, " a noble youth," says Peter 



224 WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 

Martyr, " yet the author of all those seditions." 

" And as a lover hails the dawn 
Of a first smile, so welcomed he 
The sparkle of the first sword drawn 
For vengeance and for liberty." 

Padilla possessed every charm, both of person 
and accomplishment, to win the admiration and 
attachment of a passionate people. High-born 
and graceful, brave and generous, enthusiastic and 
gentle, he became the idol [numen suum] of his 
brethren in arms. He was self-forgetful in purpose 
and unshrinking in heart, yet he had little of that 
inner fire which shines like light over dark waters, 
and the devotion he gave without measure to his 
countrymen, was vain to them and to him. We 
shall have reason to know how long he was the hope 
of the cause, which he warmly espoused in its 
spring, and to which he fearlessly pledged his faith 
by death. It is a delight to repeat the name of such 
an one as Juan de Padilla ; not that he was im- 
petuous and valiant, as many men claim to be, 
but that he was honorable, faithful, and self- 
denying, as few men in his place could have been. 
We look back to him in his youth's prime and 
his soul's excellence, grateful that we know them 
at least in part, grateful that we can do him some 
honor, without passion and without fear. 

Yet it is here that we would an instant linger 
in reasonable sorrow for the errors, after which 
the Commoners seem to have been self-destroyed. 



WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 225 

Why were such brave spirits broken, such high 
hopes crushed, such honest liberties overthrown ? 
And the simple answer comes from our own hearts 
as well as from Spanish histories, that the great 
cause was but unworthily upheld, and that its great 
claims would have prevailed in resolute peace far 
better and far sooner than in turbulent war.* 



IV. 



Returning to the events, which immediately 
preceded the outbreak of war, we find Don Pedro 
Laso de la Vega and other commissioners from 
Toledo admitted to reason with the king, then on 
his way to meet the Cortes at Santiago. Don 
Pedro claimed what all Spain most desired, that 
the king's departure should be at least delayed, 
and that, if Castile must be deserted by her sove- 

* Peter Martyr, whose judgments or whose prejudices were quite 
against the commoners, writes with reason : " Sonus quidem prima- 
rius horum motuum sanus, ut leges Regni serventur indemnes : sed 
meo judicio aberratur in processu. Supplicatu," he adds, "non armis 
agendum esse crederem satius." (Epist. 701.) He writes, again, 
to the Chancellor, with Charles : " Mi magne cancellarie, ut verum 
fateamur, si ablata passione turbante rationem, pensitaverimus rem, 
non longe a justo vagatur in suis postulatis misera Castella. Sed 
quid? . . facile est vaticinatu, seditiones has cito ruituras, quia et 
consilio et ducibus carent." — {Epist. 686.) 
15 



226 WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 

reign, some share in his government should be 
given to her communities. Old Pedro's earnest- 
ness moved some of the bystanders to tears, but 
the only return it had from Charles, was his tell- 
ing them, "with countenance somewhat black 
and severe," that, "if it were not remembered 
whose sons they were, they should be most griev- 
ously chastised, even as his royal council had 
recommended." Not even yet despairing, Don 
Pedro and his companions followed the king to 
Santiago, where the Cortes, last hope to them and 
to their countrymen, was soon after opened, (April 
1st, 1520.) Charles was present among the Depu- 
ties, whom he was already prepared to find noisy 
and seditious men. In his name, the President 
of the Cortes pronounced a lengthy discourse 
upon the necessities of the king and the duties of 
the deputies. It was heard in patient silence, and 
things were following in usual course, when some 
deputies from Salamanca declared that they would 
never even make the common oath of fealty to 
the crown, until justice was done to their rightful 
demands. Their words fell like sparks upon 
passionate hearts. Pedro Laso, who was present, 
although he was not a properly chosen deputy, 
took fire, and cried out, that he would be faithful 
to his countrymen : "Rather would I lose my head 
than do injury to the city or to the kingdom." 
Many others followed these bold examples, and for 
three or four days there was nothing but confusion 



WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 227 

in the Cortes. It was easy for Charles to banish 
froward deputies, and to obtain from more sub- 
missive ones the moneys he required ; but every 
act of absolute authority was like opening a new 
flame from ashes ready to blaze. 

The first insurrection was in Toledo, where 
the rumor was presently spread that its petitions 
had been despised and its deputies disgraced. 
The people were bitterly enraged, the nobles were 
indignant, and even the priests joined in a re- 
ligious procession, parading the streets and chant- 
ing the prayer of the Catholic litany for the illu- 
mination of the king's understanding. Eminent 
above all others there in words and deeds were 
Hernando de Avalos and Juan de Padilla ; and 
it w^as not long before an order came from the 
king, summoning Padilla and some other cavaliers 
to his presence at Santiago. But the citizens 
would not yet part with their best helpers, and all 
Toledo began to " roar like a wounded bull." 
Six thousand men took arms, and with loud cries 
of " Death to the Flemings ! . . Long live Pa- 
dilla," seized upon the cavaliers named in the 
king's summons, and forced them, not unwilling, 
to swear that they would not desert the people 
who loved them, for a master who hated them. 
The crowd, increased to twenty thousand, pressed 
on to the house of the royal governor, whom they 
found quite ready to save himself by submission, 
and then turned against the Alcazar, or citadel, 



228 WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 

which was forced, in spite of resistance from some 
Toledan cavaliers, who liked the citizens less than 
the king. Just at the moment of triumph, it was 
heard that Pedro Laso was near Toledo, on 
his way back from the Cortes, out of which 
Charles had dismissed him. The whole people 
went forth to meet the deputy who had borne 
himself nobly in their name, and conducted him 
with great rejoicing to his home. A day or two 
after, the royal governor was driven out from the 
city. New magistrates were chosen in the name 
of " the King and the Community ; " the red ban- 
ners of Toledo were hung upon her towers ; the 
walls were kept guarded ; and within, the citizens 
awaited the storm, which was sure, they thought, 
to break upon them, from Santiago. 

The Cortes were already removed to Corunna. 
on the coast, as if Charles's impatience to be gone 
were increased by the growing seditions among 
his Castilian subjects. Once, he resolved to return 
himself, to Toledo, but his Flemish courtiers, 
gorged with plunder, and longing to put it and 
themselves in safety, persuaded their master to 
hasten, instead of delaying departure. The Cortes 
granted some supplies in great confusion and with 
great reluctance, joining to their '-Free Gift," as 
they chose to call it, a noble petition in the name 
of all Castile, to which their king, however, was 
little likely to yield. The last thing Charles saw 
fit to do was, to provoke even his nobility by ap- 



WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 229 

pointing to the Regency of Castile, poor old Car- 
dinal Adrian, a good man, but a stranger, and one 
who could never bear his dignities with credit or 
even serenity. As confusion increased, Charles 
became eager to depart with the Flemings, just 
as though Spain "had been Tartarus and they 
were all bound at once to Elysium." At last, on 
the twentieth day of May, the king embarked 
" with great music and rejoicing" for Flanders, 
leaving Isabella's kingdom, says the historian, 
" weighed down by griefs and misfortunes."* 
Her children rose to sustain her in this time of her 
desertion, but they fell too soon, crushed to earth 
with the country they could not save. 

One by one the Castilian Communities rebelled 
against their absent sovereign. To some of them 
the last drop in an overflowing cup was the re- 
turn of their deputies, whose grant of moneys to 
Charles was held for arrant treachery. Tumults 
broke out everywhere ; effigies of unfaithful depu- 
ties were burned ; royal governors were expelled ; 
new magistrates were chosen; city-fortifications 
were seized by the people ; old liberties were re- 
stored and new were created. The lowest classes 
were guilty of some great excesses, such as always 
happen when the mass of any people finds itself 

* " Tam optati a Belgis quam ab Hispanis deplorati, exorti venti 
Caesarea vela tetenderunt . . . Moestas vidi Castellanorum omnium 
Tultus, qui miseram Hispaniam cernunt versam in provinciam, ab 
Oceano glaciali gubernandam." — Peter Martyr, Ep. 670. 



230 WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 

too suddenly possessed of power. The chiefs of 
the Commoners, almost universally chosen from 
among the popular Cavaliers, were unwearied in 
works of humanity and compassion. However 
black were the different rebellions, the royal ban- 
ners waved over even darker scenes in those fear- 
ful days. It is scarcely worth while to seek out 
stains upon the pages of contemporary chronicles 
or letters, whose testimony is, of course, almost en- 
tirely against the fallen Commoners. But through 
all the war there is recorded no cruelty more 
cold-blooded, than the burning, by royal troops, 
of three thousand, some say five thousand persons, 
men, women, and children, in the Cathedral of 
Mora, destroyed with the very shrines at which 
they had sought safety. The better Cavaliers, as 
well as the better Commoners, would have restored 
peace, even at their own peril. At the worst, the 
brief revenge of the populace was far less wicked 
than the long injuries they had borne in other 
times; " a sword in a madman's hands"* is not 
often so dangerous as a tyrant's axe. Yet it was 
a fatal boldness in the Communities to have set 
themselves against such power as Charles held 
above them. Their common cries, "Long life to 
the king !" " Death to the bad Councillors !" were 
signs of sedition that might have been easily satis- 
fied. The struggles into which the Commoners 

* So Peter Martyr wrote : " Est gladius in manu furentis populo 
potestatem proebere."— Epist. 636. 



WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 231 

plunged, were for ancient rights and against recent 
wrongs, but the strife was unequal and its issue 
sure. The weakest were the soonest wasted, and 
numbers, bravery, and generosity were spent in 
vain. Each rising in Castile sprang from common 
oppression; each followed the same periods of 
popular triumphs ; and it is only by gathering all 
together, that we can count the store which was 
expended. 

While the people were rising in Madrid, then 
an obscure and ill-favored city, its Alcalde de Var- 
gas, a faithful servant to the king, took refuge, 
with such followers as he could collect, in the Al- 
cazar, or Castle of the town. Being soon hard 
pressed by the newly armed citizens, he went out 
alone by night to seek assistance at Alcala, distant 
some sixteen miles. There he found forty men to 
follow him back, but when already near the 
Madrid gates, they were attacked by a large num- 
ber of citizens, who, by some accident, had been 
alarmed, and who were waiting for any enemies 
that might be approaching the city. Forty men 
could do nothing against hundreds, and even de 
Vargas was forced to set the example and save 
his men by swiftest flight back to Alcala. But 
the Madrid Alcazar was not yet. surrendered. The 
place which de Vargas unwillingly left, was taken 
by his wife, Dona Agnes, w r ho made it known 
through Madrid, that, where she was, there the 
king's authority should be preserved. The citi- 



232 WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 

zens defied her and pressed on ; the soldiers within 
cheered her and kept their post ; a company of 
royal troops came near to succor her, but was 
driven back by some Toledan Commoners; yet 
still Dona Agnes, with more than womanly forti- 
tude, maintained the Alcazar against attacks by 
day and night, nor yielded it, until the best among 
her men were slain, and the few who remained 
were utterly exhausted. The Commoners took 
it into their possession with great rejoicing, yet 
not, it is to be hoped, without honorable regard 
for the brave woman who had kept it well against 
them. 

Meanwhile, Cardinal Adrian, the Regent, was at 
Yalladolid, in a sad state of perplexity. He would 
have bent beneath the weight of his own authority 
in more tranquil times, and all the strength of the 
Royal Council was now necessary to sustain him. 
At the head of the Council, was the Archbishop 
of Granada, a passionate old man, who was much 
enraged by the insurrections about him, and asked 
for measures of merciless severity against the 
Commoners. His voice prevailed with confused 
and weak-minded colleagues. Without making 
one human effort to stay the passions of cruelly 
abused men, it was at once resolved to lash and 
chain them to rest. The city of Segovia had 
been one of the earliest in rebellion, and one of its 
deputies to the Cortes was even slain by the pop- 
ulace on his return. Segovia was now to be first 



WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 233 

subdued, according to the Council. An Alcalde 
Ronquillo, whose rough-shod judgments had al- 
ready left evil traces throughout Castile, was sent 
with one thousand men-at-arms to crush Segovia 
to dust ; a harsh and choleric man, worthy to begin 
the counterwork of oppression. 

Segovia was proud among the proudest cities of 
Castile. Its history was traced back to the Roman 
dominion, when the Emperor Trojan had built an 
aqueduct for its people, and its modern boast was 
that Isabella had there been first proclaimed queen 
of Castile. When Alcalde Ronquillo marched 
against it, there may have been 30,000 inhabitants 
within its walls, and half of these, at least, would 
rather have died than have seen their homes de- 
stroyed and their rights abandoned. Ronquillo 
came, as the people said, an executioner rather than 
a judge, "not with pointed pens to write in ink, but 
with sharp lances to draw blood." A petition for 
more charitable treatment was hurriedly sent to 
Cardinal Adrian, but without trusting to his clem- 
ency, the Segovians took their arms and joined 
them, under the command of Juan Bravo, a brave 
Commoner and true. Ronquillo advanced to a 
town within fifteen miles of Segovia, where he 
established his quarters, yet prevented, by the 
scantiness of his numbers, to do anything more 
than make proclamations against the rebels, and 
prove his sincerity by hanging or torturing the 
few prisoners who fell into his power. Afterwards, 



234 WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 

when his troops were increased, he began to 
attempt more effective measures. But the cities 
of Castile, which had rebelled like Segovia, and 
which might be next attacked, when that had 
fallen, determined to save their neighbor and their 
ally. Juan de Padilla, earliest in the field, brought 
five hundred men from Toledo, and as many more 
were sent by other near Communities. Padilla' s 
first trial of strength was successful, and Alcalde 
Ronquillo was compelled to retreat from the 
position he had kept for nearly a month past. 
The only result of his expedition was to hasten 
the civil war, and give confidence to the Com- 
moners. 

On the twenty-ninth of July, while the royal 
troops were close upon Segovia, a number of de- 
puties from Toledo, Salamanca, Avila, Toro, 
Zamora and Leon, met together in the Cathedral 
chapter of Avila, a town forty or fifty miles from 
Madrid, and gave to their assembly the name of 
La Santa Junta de Avila, the Holy Council of 
Avila. Toledo had demanded, again and again, 
the institution of some such confederacy among 
her sister Communities, and one of her wisest ad- 
visers, Pedro Laso de la Vega, was now chosen 
President of the Avila Council. Upon the Chris- 
tian cross, the deputies swore to have "no other 
ends than the king's service and the people's 
favor," an honest oath and one they would have 
kept, "not as rebels, but as saviors of their 



WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 235 

country." Other deputies came, afterwards, from 
Madrid, Guadalaxara, Soria, Murcia, Cuenca, 
Segovia, Valladolid, Burgos, and Ciudad Real. 
These were all the cities entitled to a voice in the 
Castilian Cortes, excepting those of Andalusia. 
The remote position and the unsettled population 
of this southern province kept back its sympathy 
from Castile. Seville, far the most national of all 
the Andalusian cities, was overawed by the power 
of the great Medina-Sidonias. At a later period, 
a Council was formed in the south, under the 
name of La Junta de la Rambla, which deliber- 
ately offered to the king its assistance in subduing 
the Holy Council of Avila, then in full vigor of 
authority. The first measures of the Avila Coun- 
cil were wise and brave. Without yielding their 
liberties, they would have avoided the necessity 
of perilling them in uncertain war. They bound 
their Communities in close union, and then looked 
after their enemies. The Cardinal Adrian, all the 
while ordering the deputies to separate, was become 
so contemptibly helpless, that they were provoked 
to make the attempt, at last, to disembarrass them- 
selves and their country of his woful Regency. 

We left Alcalde de Ronquillo retreating from 
Segovia, before Juan de Padilla. He was soon 
joined, and superseded in his command, by Antonio 
de Fonseca, the Captain-General of Castile. Some 
artillery, of which the royal troops were much in 
need, was stored at Medina del Campo, a town 



236 WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 

half-way between Yalladolid and Segovia. At the 
end of August, Fonseca directed his march to this 
place, intending, after providing himself with ar- 
tillery, to attack Segovia a second time. The 
Segovians, taking alarm, wrote to the citizens of 
Medina, beseeching them to refuse delivery of the 
artillery. Medina was already resolved to defend 
herself. In vain the Captain-General summoned 
the people to surrender the royal stores : in vain his 
men advanced against the town ; the very cannon 
they sought were turned against them, and every 
citizen fought as a trained soldier. Then, in the 
hot confusion of the battle, Fonseca ordered the 
town to be set on fire, believing, probably, that 
the towns-people would care more for saving their 
own homes than for keeping the king's artillery. 
It must have been a dismal fight ; but the men of 
Medina were not dismayed, looking back upon 
their burning houses, says the chronicler, "as 
though they had belonged to the enemy." So 
Fonseca was repulsed with the double shame of 
defeat and cruelty. Medina lay in blackened 
ruins; its churches, monasteries and houses, — 
nine hundred, some said, — all were fallen. Scarce- 
ly a place of common shelter could be found, and 
even the church-services were necessarily per- 
formed in the open air. Wealth, comfort, and 
subsistence were gone ; horrible deeds had been 
done by the king's soldiers; and, as the citizens 
wrote, "what they had suffered they had hearts 



WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 237 

to endure, but no tongues to tell." Then, "burning 
with rage as their houses had burned with fire," 
they set up a mob-government, under a weaver 
named Bobadilla, and, giving loose to their worst 
passions, fell madly upon some of their old magis- 
trates, whom they charged, truly or falsely, with 
treachery. The measure of Medina's desolation 
was full. 

Segovia, herself saved by the courage of this 
desolate city, hastily sent the first words of grati- 
tude and sympathy. " Be sure," wrote her 
magistrates, " be sure that, rather than have you 
lose so much, we would have lost our lives ; but 
since Medina hath been destroyed for Segovia's 
sake, Segovia will revenge Medina's ruin. . . And 
from this time remember that all of us do pledge for 
each one of you our fortunes and our lives." Pa- 
dilla was already on the way with troops from To- 
ledo. Madrid, and Segovia, to save Medina. He 
came too late, and was met by the people bearing 
black flags before them. Such assistance as they 
still needed, was cheerfully given, and in a few 
days something was done to repair the calamities 
from which Medina never entirely recovered. The 
forces under Padilla's command were daily in- 
creasing. The flames of the burning city had 
glared like signal fires of insurrection, over all 
Castile. The royal troops were retreating and 
separating in disgrace. It was a time for the 
Commoners to use their freshest vigor, and Pa- 



238 WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 

dilla was not a leader to hesitate, when there 
were any energies to sustain his own. 

Fifteen miles from Medina, at Tordesillas, lived 
poor Queen Joanna, Isabella's daughter, and 
mother to King Charles, with no other companion 
than her husband Philip's coffin, and no other 
guardians than the Marquis and Marchioness de 
Denia. The king's party, or the Cavaliers, said 
she was mad ; the Commoners declared her 
to be in perfect possession of her senses, and im- 
prisoned against her will. Padilla looked to the 
queen, whether she were sane or insane, as one he 
surely honored for her mother's sake. He felt 
how much the cause of the Communities was in 
need of some overshadowing name, and that Jo- 
anna's might well be set up against the king's. 
Padilla contrived to inform her of his approach, 
and then, without further delay, left Medina, ap- 
pearing before Tordesillas on the second of Sep- 
tember. At the queen's command, he was wel- 
comed by the towns-people, and Joanna herself 
received him. as a deliverer and a trusted friend. 
The young chief stood before the solitary queen 
and told her the strange story of Charles's absence, 
and of the evils he had left behind him in Castile. 
"I am come," said Padilla, "to Tordesillas, in 
your Highness' defence, and it is to your com- 
mand and to my service, that Castilians look now 
for mercy and deliverance." "Go then, as my 
Captain-General." replied Joanna, "to prepare all 



WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 239 

necessary things, and I will take care of you and of 
my people." In this, and in other later interviews, 
to which Padilla and the Deputies of the Avila 
Council were admitted, Joanna bore herself wise- 
ly and royally.* At her summons, the Council 
removed its sessions from Avila to Tordesillas. 
The Communities sent troops to guard the queen 
and protect the council. All the Commoner chiefs 
hastened to give their homage to Joanna, whose 
presence among them did honor and service to 
their cause. Tordesillas could scarcely contain 
this multitude of strangers. 

The king's Council of Regency had been estab- 
lished at Valladolid, in confidence of that ancient 
city's loyalty. But, when tidings were brought to 
it from fallen Medina, the great bell was rung, 
and an armed crowd collected in the great square 
of the city. A fearful night, black with "that 
fury, which," according to our chronicler, " the 
devil sowed in Spain," was spent in Valladolid. 
Captain-General Fonseca's house was pulled to 
the ground, and wild deeds, that we love not to 
read, were done. In the morning a new govern- 
ment was formed under magistrates taken from 
among the Cavaliers. Poor Cardinal Adrian and 
his councillors trembled for their lives. Even the 



* It was once said to her that the king had done great injury to 
the kingdom, and she answered, with striking expression, that it 
was Castile's fault if it had suffered harm from her son, who 
was hut a boy. 



240 WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 

fierce old Archbishop of Granada, President of the 
Council, confessed that he knew not how to op- 
pose such fury as possessed the people. The 
Cardinal was for yielding, and began by consent- 
ing to disband the army, then in retreat from 
Medina. Fonseca and Ronquillo only saved 
themselves by taking to horse and escaping to 
Portugal, from which they soon sailed to Flan- 
ders. Just after the Valladolid tumults were 
quieted, came a Dominican friar with troops and 
letters from the Council at Tordesillas, demanding 
the removal of the Regent's Council to the same 
city. This was rather too much to bear, but Pa- 
dilla's arrival, at the head of twelve hundred men, 
settled the question. Some of the councillors 
escaped ; the others, with the great seal of Castile, 
were conducted by Padilla to Tordesillas. Good 
Cardinal Adrian was left behind in utter despair. 
He was for " giving up the ship to the storm," 
says the historian, but not, we may believe, with- 
out setting himself in safety by escaping from 
Valladolid. The people watched him closely, and, 
when he went out one morning towards the gates, 
they rang their great bell, and swarmed about 
him "like ants." Pedro Giron, already high in 
influence with the citizens, succeeded in saving the 
king's Regent from any greater dishonor than that 
of being obliged to make his way back, in the 
midst of armed men, with drums beating and 
trumpets blowing in his ears. But the Cardinal 



WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 241 

was desperate ; he would abide no longer among 
this bell-ringing and trumpet-blowing people, and 
soon stole away, alone and in disguise, going with 
all speed to join the Admiral of Castile, who was 
in arms, sixteen miles off, at Rio Seco. 

It was scarcely a day more than six months 
from the opening of the Cortes, in Santiago, and 
the Castilian Communities, then everywhere op- 
pressed, were now everywhere triumphant. Their 
Council and their favorite general Padilla were in 
high favor with Queen Joanna. Nobles and 
priests and citizens were in arms for the sake of 
liberties once lost but found again. Their ene- 
mies were separated, the Royal Council was dis- 
solved, and the Regent, himself, was a fugitive. 
The waves, chained and beaten in the king's 
name, were rolling over his broken authority, 
throughout the best part of Spain. If there were 
any government afloat, it was that of Tordesillas, 
"in the names of the Queen, the King, and the 
Holy Council." 

King Charles, still in Brussels, had heard of the 
first revolts against his authority, through some 
Flemings, lately returned from Spain. The strange 
story they brought, was confirmed by despatches 
from the Cardinal Regent, relating "what might 
seem a fable to have happened in so noble a king- 
dom and in so short a time," and confessing that 
" the royal officers were no longer ministers of 
justice, but victims of the people's wrath, being 



242 WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 

in nowise powerful." The picture which these 
despatches give of the Council's imbecility is 
amusing: "If we wish to cut this evil short by 
judgment, we are not obeyed ; if by peaceable 
entreaty, we are not trusted ; if by force, we have 
neither men nor money in our service." There 
was little more wisdom in the Brussels Court 
than in the Valladolid Council. The Spanish 
courtiers were enraged against the Flemings that 
they had provoked Castile to rebellion. The 
Flemings abused the Spaniards for belonging to a 
nation which had risen against its king. Chief- 
minister Chievres had no resolution to help his 
embarrassed sovereign ; and Charles called a Coun- 
cil, which was taken up with too many prejudices 
and too many desires to do him any service. 
Germans would persuade their Emperor to go on 
to Germany ; Italians implored his countenance in 
Italy ; Aragonese claimed his aid in subduing the 
seditions at Valencia; Castilians declared that 
without him all was lost in Spain; and even 
Flemings put in a word for themselves, recom- 
mending the tranquillity and attachment of their 
own provinces. While each was speaking for 
himself, Charles was quite unable to act for all. 
He was himself most impatient to take possession 
of his German Empire, and to Germany he re- 
solved to travel on. Castile he thought to appease 
by letters from his own hand, commanding her to 
obedience, and promising his early return. He 



WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 243 

even renounced the "Free Gift" of the Santiago 
Cortes, and declared that Castilians alone should 
henceforth be promoted to the dignities of the 
kingdom. Partly in earnest of his better purposes, 
partly to lighten the load under which Cardinal 
Adrian was fast sinking, but still more to secure 
the wavering devotion of the Castilian nobility, 
Charles now appointed his Admiral, Fadrique 
Enriquez, and his Constable, Inigo Velasco, both 
"cavaliers of ancient and generous blood," to be 
the Cardinal's colleagues in the Regency. A better 
blow than this, in defence of his royal authority, 
could not have been struck. The nobles of Cas- 
tile at once gathered round the new Regents, 
proud in fidelity to honorable and national names. 
The king often acknowledged that he owed his 
crown to the good services of the Constable in 
Castile. From the day of his appointment, and 
the Admiral's, to authority, the course of the war 
was changed. 

The king's grace was shown too late to save 
his people. Royal promises, which, six months 
before, would have been signs of great things to 
Castile, now seemed nothing more than the first 
fruits of insurrection, forced from a hard master. 
The Commoners were rather encouraged in rebel- 
lion, than brought back to obedience, by the Brus- 
sels letters. In the name of the Holy Council, a 
long and bold reply was sent to Charles, now 
crowned Emperor of Germany. "The laws of 



244 WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 

these your kingdoms" — thus the letter ran — 
" the laws of these your kingdoms, most sover- 
eign prince, say and order among other things 
that the King do nothing against his own honor 
and the commonweal.* Of the evil government 
which hath been over us, and of the losses and 
exorbitancies, which have been brought upon us, 
we believe your Councillors to be especially guilty. 
Therefore, doing what it was right to do accord- 
ing to the laws of your kingdoms, we have re- 
moved from your Council those who worked the 
miseries of which we write at length. We would 
do as much by those other Councillors, now with 
your Majesty, were they but here, since their 
misdoings have been the same. . . But we rather 
beseech your Majesty, for our relief and good 
government, to confirm the chapters which we 
send herewith; and for what we have done in 
your royal service and in the interest of your 
kingdoms, we entreat your Majesty to esteem it 
well and reverently done." In all this, be it ob- 
served, there is the mingling of loyalty and lib- 
erty, peculiar to the Castilian character. 

The Chapters, (Capitulos,) which this letter 
accompanied as herald, were no less than one 



* Compare one of the Visigoth laws : " Sane tarn de prgesenti quam 
de futuris regibus hanc sententiam promulgamus, ut si quis ex eis, 
contra reverentiam legum, superba dominatione et fastu regio, in fla- 
gitiis et facinore, sive cupiditate, crudelissimam potestatem in po- 
pulis exercuerit, anathematis sententia, etc." 



WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 245 

hundred and eighteen in numher. Lengthy though 
they be, we have much to seek in them, for they 
are the only monuments, which have been allowed 
to bear good inscriptions for the Commoners. The 
words upon them are so brave, the hopes beneath 
them were so fair, that we would linger to read 
and know them for ourselves. The Chapters 
begin with a mournful history of the miseries by 
which Castile had been driven into rebellion, and 
to this there followed the demands of the Com- 
moners. They asked, in the first place, that the 
king would return to govern them as they desired. 
They claimed his pardon for any evil courses, 
into which they might have fallen, and his en- 
couragement of the manly purposes they had more 
generally pursued. They directly intimated, that, 
if the sources of sedition were to be closed by their 
submission, it was necessary that the sources of 
oppression should be also closed by limits set about 
the king's power. The great point on which the 
Council insisted with Charles was the suppression 
of all unjust privileges, hitherto recognized by 
the Castilian sovereigns, so "that all should con- 
tribute, all be taxed, and all be equal in Castile."* 
This claim to equality before the laws is like a 
cross set upon the citadel, by which the Common- 
ers would have protected their liberty ; alas ! that 
it was built in air, a very Chateau en Espagne. 

* " Que en Castilla todos contribuyesen, todos fuesen iguales y to- 
dos pechasen." 



246 WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 

All other demands were subordinate ; that justice 
should be sheltered beneath larger laws, and be 
administered by more righteous judges ; that the 
offices of state should no more be sold or thrown 
to strangers, but given, as of right, to native Cas- 
tilians ; that industry should be protected, cur- 
rency controlled, and taxation regulated anew ; 
that even the power of the Church should be lim- 
ited, and its prelates be forced to live in Christian 
intercourse with their people ; and that, " to ob- 
serve the security of these laws and privileges," 
the Cortes, composed of free-chosen deputies, 
should be assembled every three years. All the 
branches of government, in church and state, 
were to be thus trained and tended, that the deso- 
lation of those weary years might never return to 
Castile. So be the Commoners known and upheld. 
Had such claims as these prevailed in peace, their 
kingdom might have become, even as they prayed, 
" the richest and most blessed of the earth." 

But the hopes of the Castilians were premature. 
At the same period, when these Chapters were 
sent to Charles Fifth, the English Parliament was 
bending itself double before Henry Eighth, and 
the States General of France were only strong 
enough to yield a faint assent to all that Francis 
First might ask from them. The Commoners 
asked much more than Charles was willing to 
yield, and what he considered the extravagance 
of their demands provoked him to harsher meas- 



WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 247 

ures than he had hitherto attempted. Of the three 
messengers, sent with these despatches from the 
Holy Council, one was seized and imprisoned on 
the way, and the other two never dared to ap- 
proach the king. The Castilians heard from afar, 
that so fast as they were taken they should be 
slain " without trial or form of justice." But they 
were not yet to be disheartened. It was openly 
debated in the Council whether Charles should 
not be solemnly deposed, nay, whether Joanna 
should not now espouse some prince, who might 
govern Spain in her name. We need not wonder 
that the Commoners never thought of governing 
themselves, for the principle of republicanism was 
impossible in their country and in their age. It was 
too late for them to retreat from the field on which 
so much was staked ; it was too early to conquer 
all the liberties which belonged to them as men. 
In any event, they had need of prudence and 
energy and good faith, such as could alone make 
labor sure or success availing. Yet these do not 
seem to have universally or even generally be- 
longed to the Commoners. The circumstances, 
which had drawn them together in their necessity, 
did not keep them together through their trial. 
The impulse with which they started did not last 
them even half-way towards their shining and 
distant goal. The counsels of their wisest and 
the deeds of their bravest men were not long sup- 
ported among themselves. "This flame," wrote 



248 WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 

Peter Martyr, "will end in smoke, as I opine, be- 
cause the heads of this mad Council, altogether 
wanting in experience, are already turning to- 
wards their own vain-glory." And "what they 
wish, they do not even understand ; like to but- 
terflies which waver through the air, uncertain 
whither they are flying." * 



The Constable-Regent of Castile set up the 
royal banners in October, and soon collected ten 
thousand men-at-arms led by the flower of the 
Castilian nobility, and commanded by his own 
son, the Count de Haro. The obstinacy of the 
Council in refusing the king's offers and putting 
forward their own claims, had already raised new 
enemies against the Communities. King Eman- 
uel of Portugal, to whom the Commoners ad- 
dressed themselves for countenance in their enter- 
prise, sent a large sum of money, not to them 
but to the Cavaliers. The Castilian nobles, who 
thought their privileges in danger, now gave their 
support very freely to the Regents towards whom 

* Peter Martyr. Opus Epistolarum. Ep. 713, 685. 



WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 249 

some popular feeling was already inclining. On 
the other side, the Commoners were stirring ac- 
tively. The Council called upon the Communi- 
ties to furnish both forces and supplies, and suc- 
ceeded in gathering ten or fifteen thousand men 
at Tordesillas; but there was little strength in 
such numbers, undisciplined and undirected. It 
is an especial point to be remembered in this 
brief history, that the chances of war, that is, of 
action, were always against the Commoners. 
Their infantry was composed of tradesmen, or 
workmen, or husbandmen, who scarcely knew 
how to carry their weapons properly,* and were 
in all ways unfit to bear any good part in open 
fields, however stoutly they could defend their 
thick- walled towns. The cavalry, then the best 
part of all armies, was, with the Commoners, 
hastily and feebly formed out of such cavaliers 
as fought for the people, and such stranger sol- 
diers as fought for the people's pay. In the 
middle classes these wants of discipline and 
strength were made up by resolution and hearty 
spirit, but to the lower classes there was little 
help, because they had been too long degraded to 
be suddenly capable of prudent purpose, or even 
of simple self-protection. On the other hand, the 
Cavaliers, military in their very names, were strong 

* Juncterorum copiae sunt rusticanae, vomeribus et ligonibus per 
tractandis aptiores quam armis. — Peter Martyr, Ep. 705. 



250 WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 

in a force of veteran foot-soldiers, and were them- 
selves enrolled in the cavalry of their excellent 
army. A great mistake was presently made by 
the leaders among the Commoners. Juan de Pa- 
dilla, who had been foremost in all the previous 
adventures of the war, and who had become "the 
idol " of all Castile, was momentarily absent 
from the army. Jealous of his popularity, or blind 
to his superiority, the Council had him set aside 
in making choice of a commander. To one so 
disinterested and devoted as Padilla, another, 
whose character was made up of pride, choler, and 
treachery, was now preferred ; and, not without 
clamor among the soldiers, Pedro Giron was chos- 
en Captain-General of the Communities. 

The resources of the Commoners seemed more 
abundant than they really were, apparently avail- 
ing and pressing to instant service. The Cavaliers 
believed that present odds were against them, and 
sought delay in opening a conference with the 
Council. The Admiral-Regent met Pedro Laso 
and some other deputies at Torrelobaton, half 
way between Rio Seco, (the royal head-quarters,) 
and Tordesillas. They were six days together, 
but as the terms which the Admiral could offer, 
were much less than the Council had already de- 
manded, they were firmly refused. In fact, the 
Regents had no sort of authority at this time, to 
make any conditions with the people in the king's 
name. So the conference at Torrelobaton broke 



WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 251 

up; "pens and tongues," says the chronicler, 
11 were all worn out," and, 

" Wild trumpets were braying 
Aloud for Castile." 

All now depended upon strength and prudence in 
war. The cause which was to fail, was to fail 
for ever. Either royalty must give up something 
of its power, or liberty must be driven utterly out 
from Castile. 

Already the balance was turning against the 
Communities. The nobles, on whom they had 
much depended, were deserting them. Worse 
still were bitter divisions among the Common- 
ers themselves, which, though scarcely worth 
relating, were significant of failing enthusiasm. 
Some of the cities were inclining to accept the 
offers made to them, separately, by the Regents. 
Burgos, second only to Toledo in importance, but 
behind all others in independence of spirit, was 
gained by large promises, and opened her gates to 
the constable, (1st of November.) Valladolid was 
wavering between hope of gain with the Com- 
moners and fear of loss fron the Cavaliers. The 
Toledan troops incontinently deserted the army at 
Tordesillas, so soon as any other general than 
their own was set above them. But Padilla was 
true when other hearts were growing cold. He 
hastened from Toledo, met his troops and brought 
them back to their quarters, offering his obedience 
and theirs to the orders of Captain-General Giron. 



252 WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 

The H ly Council was discordant and useless, as 
if its name had been the Unholy. Even Queen 
Joanna was sunk in deepest melancholy, and re- 
fused to sign the papers which were necessary to 
the Council's and the army's existence. It was 
easy to see that the red crosses of the Commoners 
would soon be abandoned for the white crosses of 
the Cavaliers.* 

The king's troops, it must be remembered, were 
at Medina del Rio Seco, only twenty miles distant 
from the army of the Communities at Tordesillas. 
Towards the end of November, by the Council's 
orders, Captain-General Giron marched towards 
Rio Seco, and, after some slight skirmishes, took 
position within a few miles of the town. There 
he remained for two or three days, drawing out 
his troops, every morning, in battle array, and 
provoking the Cavaliers, within the walls, to come 
out and meet him, by frequent flourishes of artil- 
lery. But it so happened, that the Count de Haro 
was absent, and the Cavaliers were unwilling to 
venture anything until his return. So Pedro Giron's 
parades and the Bishop of Zamora's impatience, — 
the Bishop being now in the very van of the army, 
— and Padilla's resolutions were all spent in vain. 
When, at last, the Count de Haro was actually 
approaching with some reinforcements, Pedro 



* These colors, white and red, distinguished the two parties dur- 
ing the war. 



WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 253 

Giron drew off his army, sin porque, ni saber a 
que fin, — without knowing why, or having any 
reason at all. as his soldiers said, — to Villalpando, 
a town some miles west of Medina, leaving the 
southern road to Tordesillas open to the enemy. 
Pedro Giron was una cabeza llena de viento, a 
windy-brained man, who belonged to a great 
family,* from whom he had been estranged by 
some affront put upon him by the king. While 
he was before Rio Seco, the Admiral, who knew 
him well, met him in secret interview, and per- 
suaded him to betray the cause he had indiffer- 
ently upheld : and it was in consequence of such 
an understanding with the Regents, that Giron 
now dragged away his forces, not only from Rio 
Seco but from Tordesillas. There, at Tordesillas, 
were Queen Joanna and the Council, that is, the 
whole government which the Communities pos- 
sessed or obeyed, and to strike this down was like 
cutting off a hundred heads with one blow. The 
Count de Haro hurried over the deserted road 
from Rio Seco, and fell, at dusk, upon Tordesillas 
undefended, save by the Bishop of Zamora's regi- 
ment of priests, and a few men-at-arms. Some 
brave resistance was made by these, but the king's 
army was too numerous to be driven back, and 
the town was yielded. In dashed the Cavaliers, 
plundering, seizing, and slaying. Neither house 
nor church, neither man nor woman, was spared. 

* He was the Constable's own nephew. 



254 WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 

Nine or ten deputies of the Council were taken 
prisoners, while the rest escaped as they could by 
different ways. At midnight, the Count de Haro 
sought the queen and kissed her hand in sign of 
his reverent homage, but she was quite bewildered, 
heedless of friend and foe, and, indeed, to her the 
Cavaliers' triumph or the Commoners' could bring 
but little joy. All the while, the Commoners were 
at Villalpando, so bound by their general's trea- 
chery, that never hand nor foot was moved to 
save their queen, their Council and themselves 
from ruin. If they had but followed Padilla ! 

The deputies of the Council, escaped from 
Tordesillas, were soon reassembled at Valladolid, 
whither also the Commoners marched from Villal- 
pando. Pedro Giron, "fatigued with his com- 
mand," disappeared, and the troops remained for 
some time without any General. Valladolid be- 
came a scene, as Sandoval wrote, of " massacre 
and bloodshed, and robbery, and barbarity," and 
the whole kingdom was struggling with "hunger, 
fire, and steel." * The year was ending in disas- 
trous confusion. Neither the Council nor the 
Regency were able to hinder the abuses of war, 
and the description of a contemporary writer (Gue- 
vara) was bitterly true : "things being come to 
such a pass that there are no roads secure, no 



* Peter Martyr's words are these : " Fame, flamma, ferro, Regna 
ruuntregia." (Epist. 679.) 



WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 255 

temples respected, no men to plough the fields, 
none to supply the common means of subsistence, 
none to execute justice, none even who are safe in 
their own dwellings, insomuch as all proclaim the 
king, and all refuse to obey the king."* 

The hopes of the Communities rested upon Juan 
de Padilla. He was received at Valladolid as gladly 
as if he had been "father to the whole people." 
A few skirmishes with the Cavaliers, of no other 
importance than that the energies of the Common- 
ers were kept alive by action, happened towards 
the close of the year. Padilla, followed closely 
by the Bishop of Zamora, was foremost in every 
adventure, not only leading his men to fight 
bravely, but, what was strange in that war, 
teaching them to spare nobly, when the fight was 
won. His gallantry of heart and arm was not 
without its reward, and, early in the new year 
(1521), he was chosen Captain-General of the 
Commoners. The superior authority amongst his 
companions had fallen to him since the desertion 
of Pedro Giron, but when the day of a new elec- 
tion was fixed at Valladolid, Padilla was the first 
to propose another General than himself, and was, 
of all others, the most ready to acknowledge the 
claims which Pedro Laso, an older but a weaker 

* The account given by Peter Martyr, is the same. " Ad sicario- 
rum manus jam res deducitur . . . Audet exire nemo ; Vineae 
culturseque deseruntur ; trucidanlur in agris ruricolce ; nil tutum est ; 
ad arma conclamatur quotidie." {Epist. 709.) 



256 WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 

man, put forward to the chief command. The 
citizens' favor and the soldiers' love belonged en- 
tirely to Padilla, and when it was but whispered 
that the Council inclined towards Laso, tumultu- 
ous crowds began to gather about the hall of ses- 
sion. Padilla instantly came out and declared 
that he himself was first in voting for his rival, 
but this generosity so warmed all hearts to enthu- 
siasm, that the council was obliged to promise the 
election which troops and people demanded with 
threats and outcries. Pedro Laso, who had been 
exceedingly active in his own favor, was grievous- 
ly affronted by such a failure, and not long after 
went over to the Regent's side, leaving his old 
companions to do what they could under the Cap- 
tain-General they had preferred to him. 

Little by little, Padilla strove to prop up the 
cause, which was really falling, and, notwithstand- 
ing the loss of Pedro Laso's countenance, some 
signs of promise to the Commoners came with the 
new year. Padilla was not without hearty aid. 
Juan Bravo, of Segovia, and Francisco Maldonado, 
of Salamanca, both deserve to be regarded as his 
tried and trusty friends. The Bishop of Zamora 
was wandering in arms from city to city, preach- 
ing a crusade against Cavaliers and Regents and 
Kings. He went to Toledo, and the people de- 
clared that they would have him for their Arch- 
bishop, como si fueran unos Papas, just as if 
they had been popes, exclaims the old historian. 



WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 257 

Toledo, proud of Padilla, was submissive to all 
his demands for aid, and even to the measures of 
support, which were taken by his wife, Maria 
Pacheco. Burgos was wavering back towards 
her sister communities, and all the neighboring 
country, in the north, was risen in arms under the 
Count de Salvatierra, a furious and vindictive 
man, who had joined the Commoners from motives 
of utter selfishness, but who was still doing good 
service to their cause. Some new dispatches from 
Charles to the Cavaliers arrived in the early part 
of the year, but the promises they bore to the Com- 
moners were like oil poured upon wild fires.* 

Torrelobaton, a well-fortified town, commanded 
the only open communication between Burgos, 
the head-quarters of the Constable, and Tordesillas, 
the head-quarters of the Admiral.f In both one 
place and the other, preparations of war against 
the Commoners were rapidly going forward, and 
it was, of course, a great object with Padilla to 
interrupt the plans of his enemies. In the latter 
part of February, he ordered out his whole force 

* Yet even these flaming fires (tanti ignes flammantes) were kin- 
dled with such "straws " as would soon burn out. "Fuini sunt hi 
paleares, qui licet narihus sint molesti, quia fcetidi, ad capitisque 
apti gravedinem, propere tamen dissolvuntur." So writes Peter 
Martyr, Ep. 686. 

t The main road was blocked up by Valladolid, occupied, it will be 
remembered, by the Commoners. The Royal Council was with the 
Constable at Burgos ; Cardinal Adrian was at Tordesillas, with the 
Admiral. 

17 



25S WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 

from Valladolid, and marched directly against 
Torrelobaton, which was then defended by five or 
six hundred Cavaliers. For ten days there was 
continued fighting about the town, and still no 
other attempt in succor of the Cavaliers was made, 
than the sudden advance and equally sudden 
retreat of the Count de Haro with a thousand 
lances. The host of Commoners prevailed, and 
fell upon the town like beasts upon long-hunted 
prey. Padilla lost all power over his troops even 
in this his greatest victory, and, gorged with booty 
and blood, they deserted him by hundreds. A 
truce was declared for eight days, at the entreaty 
of the Cavaliers, who began to look upon the war 
as one of very doubtful issue. During the time 
of the truce, a meeting was arranged at a neigh- 
boring town, between the leaders of either army, 
but Padilla had no sooner arrived at the appointed 
place, than some friend among the Cavaliers 
warned him of a plot for his assassination, and 
he rode speedily back, leaving the chances of con- 
ference untried. The victory at Torrelobaton was 
worse than any defeat could have been to the 
Commoners. Padilla's soldiers left him to carry 
home their plunder and their glory. He was 
quite unable to engage in any adventures of im- 
portance, and though Sandoval calls him " another 
Hannibal in Capua," his inaction is quite as easily 
understood as the great Carthaginian's. But 
though left almost alone, Padilla stood firm, and 



WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 259 

refused the overtures that were rriade to him by 
the Admiral, at the very moment when the Com- 
munities were on the brink of deep and fearful ruin. 

On both sides, however, there was, at this pe- 
riod of the war, great want both of resources and 
enterprise. The Cavaliers were hardly able to 
keep together any considerable forces, and were 
even reduced to sell their plate in order to pay 
the arrears of their soldiers. The Commoners, 
who had little plate to sell, tried other means, and 
at Valladolid the magistrates ordered the gates to 
be shut, while they plundered the chief monastery 
in the city of six thousand ducats, or about forty- 
five thousand dollars. A strange scene was en- 
acted at Toledo, under the direction of Maria 
Pacheco, Padilla's wife. She herself, clothed in 
deepest mourning, and walking upon her knees, 
crept, with tears and signs of lamentation, into 
the Cathedral sacristy, and took away all the 
treasures it contained. So the "dance of the 
Commoners,'' as the war is called by a contem- 
porary chronicler, continued ; but it was a dance 
of death, even to the lookers on. 

One of the Council's messengers to the king now 
returned with hot-headed stories of the dangers he 
had met on his way. and endeavored to make him- 
self important at the expense of the people's peace. 
He was a foolish monk, named Fray Pablo, and 
it was very probably by his own doing that there 
appeared a proclamation, posted at night in the 



260 WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 

great square of Yalladolid, directed in the king's 
name against all the Castilian Communities, in 
general, and against no less than rive hundred 
Commoners, in particular. This was great ag- 
gravation to the populace, but they were relieved, 
the next day, by a public ceremony, in which the 
Council played the chief parts, among a throng of 
musicians, heralds, citizens and soldiers. In their 
presence was proclaimed judgment upon Regents, 
royal Councillors and Cavaliers, as guilty of cru- 
elty and treachery. At almost the same time, a 
letter from the Cardinal Regent to the king was 
intercepted, in which good old Adrian counselled 
his master to favor the Commoners' just demands 
rather than trust to the Cavaliers' doubtful obe- 
dience. So the Commoners were again encour- 
aged. But the day of the king's triumph and the 
people's defeat was close at hand. 

On the twenty-first of April, the Regents joined 
their forces at Periaflor, a few miles to the north- 
east of Torrelobaton. On the next day, the royal 
troops, ten thousand in number, were reviewed in 
the Regents' presence, and were then set in march 
against the wasted army of the Commoners. 
Juan de Padilla was in no condition to await the 
Cavaliers, so much more numerous and better 
disciplined than his own soldiers,^ and he at once 

* " Proceribus [the Cavaliers] equitum nobilium copia ingens, 
Juncteris [the Commoners] fere nulla et ea bellorum expers." — 
Peter Martyr. Ep. 720. 



WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 261 

determined to retreat, eighteen miles, to Toro, 
where he might meet some promised reinforce- 
ments, or whence, in their failure, he might press 
on towards Salamanca. At all events, it was 
necessary for him to avoid decisive action. The 
war between Charles the Emperor and Francis of 
France was already begun, and French troops 
were marching into Navarre. Could Padilla have 
saved his forces, until the Regents' army was 
drawn away to meet this northern invasion, the 
cause of the Communities might have triumphed 
in the end. 

His orders to retreat from Torrelobaton were 
given in the early morning of the twenty- 
third of April. A priest, breakfasting at the 
General's table, suddenly cried out, " It hath 
been revealed to me that on such a day as this, 
the Cavaliers shall conquer, and the Common- 
ers shall fall; so go not forth from the town." 
" Peace!" replied Padilla solemnly, "and pray 
to God, in whose name I have devoted my life to 
the welfare of these kingdoms, for now there is 
no time to stay." The signs in which that stout 
heart trusted, were of higher nature than belonged 
to a priest's dreams. To him, surely, 

" The best of omens was his country's cause," 

and to that he gave himself in defeat or victory. 
Before daAvn, the Commoners were on their march 
towards Toro. The retreat was perfectly ordered 
by Padilla, who placed himself at the head of all 



262 WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 

his cavalry, in the rear. The enemy was soon in 
hot pursuit, attacking the retreating army wher- 
ever it was most exposed, yet everywhere meeting 
with manful and orderly resistance. The Count 
de Haro, at length, came up himself with three 
or four thousand horse, a force much superior in 
strength to the whole army of Commoners. At 
Villalar, six miles from Torrelobaton, the van- 
guard of Padilla's march, wearied and despairing, 
began to waver. The mud was deep upon the 
ground, and a heavy rain drove full in the sol- 
diers' faces as they struggled on. So soon as the 
Count de Haro saw signs of disorder in the broken 
ranks before him, he ordered his artillery to open 
its fire and his infantry to engage directly with 
the Commoners. Padilla's troops were scattered 
about the narrow plain, like fallen leaves. He 
would have gathered and encouraged them : 

" Then in the name of God and all these rights, 
Advance your standards, draw your willing swords : 
For me, the ransom of my bold attempt 
Shall be this cold corse on the earth's cold face ; 
But if I thrive, the gain of my attempt 
The least of you shall bear his part thereof." 

But his words and his deeds were equally spent, 
in vain. His cannoneers deserted their guns, and 
his infantry fled, tearing their red crosses from 
their breasts, without spirit enough to save their 
own lives. Still, and alone, the horsemen, the best 
of that poor army, fought bravely, following be- 
hind Padilla, who spurred his steed and waved 



WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 263 

his arms against the shouting Cavaliers. But the 
day was lost, and the horsemen, too, rode fast 
away. Then Padilla, crying " St. James and 
Liberty !" plunged, with five chosen companions, 
into the fast-ebbing fight. Alone he dared to 
brave the host that his whole army had feared, 
but his lance was soon broken, he was himself 
severely wounded, and so fell at last into the 
hands of his enemies. Scarcely had he yielded 
his blunted sword, when one of the bystanders, 
now crowding around him, thrust a dagger's point 
into the open bars of Padilla' s helmet, but the 
wound was slighter than the shame of so hateful 
a deed. Bravo of Segovia, and Maldonado of 
Salamanca, Padilla's faithful fellow-soldiers, were 
taken with him. More than a thousand Common- 
ers were made prisoners, and five hundred, at 
least, lay slaughtered like sheep upon the field. 
The battle of Yillalar was " a mortal blow," and 
the war of the Communities was at an end, in 
a little more than a year from the time of its be- 
ginning. 



264 WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 



VI. 



In the night following the unhappy day of Vil- 
lalar, Padilla, Bravo and Maldonado were con- 
demned to death on the morrow. No form of 
common justice was allowed to protect them, and 
all unavailing was the Constable's generous coun- 
sel that the king's will should be consulted before 
the prisoners were executed. Death could not 
have been unwelcome to Padilla, now that his 
hopes were dead before him. His last hours were 
occupied with his nearest duties towards home 
and towards those who made home dear. " To 
thee, crown of Spain," he wrote to Toledo,* "to 
thee, light of the world, thy legitimate son de- 
clares that his very joyful consolation is dying for 
thee here." " If your grief," he wrote to his wife, 
" did not trouble me more than my own death, I 
should consider myself to be most entirely fortu- 
nate. . . In your keeping I leave my heart, and do 
you still cherish it as that which most dearly loved 
you." His father was still alive to mourn his son 
buried before him, but the father belonged to the 
triumphant Cavaliers, and "to him," said Padilla 
in the same letter for his wife, "to him I do not 

* These letters of Padilla will be found at the end. 



WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 265 

write because I dare not ; for, though I was his 
son in risking this loss of life, I have not been 
his heir in good fortune." As if the greatest upon 
earth might not have been proud of such a son ! 
Padilla would have made his last testament, but 
even a notary's assistance was denied him, and 
it was only at his renewed entreaties that he was 
allowed to have a confessor, and with him the 
rest of that last night was spent in preparation 
and prayer. 

In the morning, Padilla and his companions 
were led out to execution. A herald walked on 
before, proclaiming them to be condemned traitors, 
but Bravo called out fiercely that the herald, and 
they who sent him, lied. " Traitors! no!" cried 
the warm-hearted Commoner, "but lovers of the 
people's weal, and defenders of the nation's lib- 
erty." He was struck with a staff by one of the 
magistrates and ordered to be silent, while Pa- 
dilla turned to him, and calmed all his passion, 
by saying, " Yesterday, Juan Bravo, we had to 
fight like knights, but, to-day, we have to die like 
Christians." When the prisoners were bound to 
be executed, there arose amongst them almost a 
dispute as to who should be the first to die, 
"Me," exclaimed Bravo, "despatch me, that I 
may not behold the death of the best knight in 
Castile ! " and, as he asked, he was first executed. 
Padilla waited only to put in a bystander's hands 
some last token for his wife, then bowed his head 



266 WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 

to the executioner, murmuring, as his eyes fell 
upon Bravo' s corpse, "Ah! you are there, good 
knight!" and dying a serene and noble sacri- 
fice. 

" Here Padilla died, 
Martyr to Freedom. If thou dost love 
Her cause, stand then as at an altar here, 
And thank the Almighty that thine honest heart, 
Full of a brother's feelings for mankind, 
Rebels against oppression." 

After Padilla, Maldonado was executed, "and 
so," says the historian, " the troubles of these 
three were ended." " Like the furious current of a 
sudden whirlwind," as the same one adds, " the 
war passed by, and was done." It was cutting 
the stoutest mast away to strike Padilla down ; 
the sails loosened, the cords cracked, and the 
wreck was utter ruin. 

The Council fled from Valladolid and disap- 
peared "like smoke in the air." Valladolid, 
itself, terrified at the Cavaliers' approach, did not 
even dare to ring its great bell, but sought pardon 
by complete submission. As the surrender of 
such a principal city would be an example to all 
others, the Regents granted it favorable terms of 
peace, excepting only eighteen Commoners who 
had been most forward in past seditions; but only 
two of these eighteen were executed, the others 
making their escape without being pursued. Four 
days after the battle of Villalar, the royal troops 
made their entry into the city with great parade, 



WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 267 

yet all wasted upon the citizens, who kept doors 
and windows closed, either through fear or 
through resolution. But the submission of Valla- 
dolid and the clemency with which it was re- 
ceived, were more sufficient than armies could 
have been, in bringing back Castile to its alle- 
giance. One after another the cities opened their 
gates and laid down their arms. 

The Count de Salvatierra, taken while still 
struggling against the Cavaliers, was imprisoned 
at Burgos, where, some years after, he died.* 
Bishop Antonio, of Zamora, just rejoicing in the 
Toledo archbishopric, was forced to escape in dis- 
guise from all his dignities, and then was taken 
on his flight. His castle of Fermosel, in the 
north, was one of the last strongholds surrendered 
to the Cavaliers. The Bishop relieved himself 
by killing his jailor, at Simancas, and getting out 
of prison, but he was soon put in again, and, two 
years afterwards, was condemned to death by 
Alcalde Ronquillo, at that time appointed by brief 
from the pope to judge all priests and friars, who 
had taken part in the war against the king. 

* There is a pleasant story told of Salvatierra's son, that, while 
his father was lying in prison, he sold his horse to give the old 
Count food and clothes. The boy was then a page in the royal 
service, and what he had done being reported at court, he was 
presently called to account by the king himself. " I sold my horse," 
said young Salvatierra, " to give my father food." Charles was in 
one of his royal humors, and ordered his page to be presented with 
enough to buy two horses in place of the one he had sold. 



268 WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 

Neither Pedro Giron nor Pedro Laso received any 
reward for the treachery they had done to the 
Communities, and their disappearance from the 
chronicles we read, is the only comfort to be had 
in those days of despair. 

The spirit of Castile sank and fell with Padilla. 
In all parts of Spain the people were now abandon- 
ing their hopes and liberties. Only Toledo stood 
firm, sustained yet a little while longer by the 
fortitude of a widowed and desolate woman. Ma- 
ria Pacheco was faithful to the cause for which 
her husband had perished. Hostile chroniclers 
declare her to have been ambitious, vain, and in- 
human, nor do they hesitate to charge her with fol- 
lowing out her evil courses by the help of sorcery. 
One calls her "the tyranness of Toledo;" an- 
other, "a firebrand to the whole kingdom; " but 
such names it was unmanly to give, and we will 
believe them not. The truth is, that Maria Pa- 
checo, a woman of passionate nature, gave her 
whole heart to the great purposes of her lord, and 
would have supported them with more than wo- 
man's enthusiasm. If her miseries made her mad, 
at last, if she forgot the gentleness of spirit which 
should have been her handmaid, and yielded her- 
self to the fiercer companionship of despair, she 
does not therefore deserve that, we look upon her 
as proud, or ignorant, or ferocious. Her story is 
one of the extremities to which the Commoners of 
her day were driven, even against their will. 



WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 269 

When the news of Padilla's death was brought to 
Toledo, his wife, clad in mourning robes and bear- 
ing her young child, went forth among the people, 
to whom it seemed that she was the one to inherit 
her husband's influence, and they " acknowledged 
her not as a woman," writes the sneering chroni- 
cler, " but as a hero." She accepted the inheri- 
tance as a duty, though with what hopes of 
defending Toledo against the whole strength of 
Spain it is not easy to comprehend. She may 
have been encouraged by the French invasion of 
Navarre, or by the rebellion against the nobility 
which still existed in Valencia and Majorca ; but 
on whatever else she depended, to one resolution 
she clung fast, of keeping her home and Padilla's 
free from the Cavaliers. She opened a corre- 
spondence with many of the Castilian cities, and 
even wrote to the French general in the north. 
Nor did she neglect to keep alive the dying spirit 
of Toledo. She ordered crucifixes to be borne be- 
fore her soldiers ; and at her own side was carried 
a painted effigy of her husband, headless and 
bleeding on his scaffold. She took possession of 
the Alcazar, or citadel, and, summoning the assis- 
tance of a few faithful councillors, among whom 
we meet, again, with Hernando de Avalos, Maria 
Pacheco bade defiance to King, Regents and Cava- 
liers. Although troops were instantly sent against 
Toledo, this hero-woman defended her towns- 
people for many long months, in spite of their 



270 WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 

wasting numbers and failing energies. The Re- 
gents sought to have her person seized, but the 
Toledans were not yet so faint-hearted as to 
abandon her. Yet pardon and possession of an- 
cient privileges being soon assured them by the 
king, their resolutions were forgotten, and their 
city was surrendered, (February, 1522.)* Then, 
when all was over, she who had secured the peo- 
ple's safety by forcing them to self-protection, 
fled away in disguise. The wife and son of Pa- 
dilla could find no place of refuge in Spain, but 
hid themselves in Portugal, where, not long after, 
they died in want and suffering. The house, 
which had been their home and Padilla's, in To- 
ledo, was, by the king's order, razed to the ground, 
and a pillar of stone, to Padilla's glory rather than 
his shame, was set to mark the empty space. 
The pillar is fallen, but the uncovered ground is 
still the home of warm associations, forever dwell- 
ing with the name of Juan de Padilla. 

Charles the Emperor, everywhere triumphant, 
in France, in Italy, and in Germany, returned to 
Spain in the summer of 1522. He was welcomed 
with demonstrations of great joy by all parties 
and all classes among his people. Peace and 



* Some say that the clergy of Toledo, offended by the plunder of 
their cathedral-treasures, were chief aiders and abettors in this sur- 
render ; hut the subdued and wearied people were much more likely 
to have acted here for themselves. 



WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 271 

submission were already established throughout 
his kingdom, and neither would be disturbed by 
him. Rebellion in Castile had kept him tyranni- 
cal, but triumph over Castile now made him mer- 
ciful. " Enough," he said, soon after his return, 
" enough, let no more blood be shed in Spain." 
Only the most turbulent Commoners were marked 
out for punishment, and some among these were 
saved or permitted to save themselves. Hernando 
de Avalos, who had gone into exile with Padilla's 
widow, returned, after her death, and was seen in 
disguise at Court, where he was naturally at- 
tracted by hope of pardon. Charles was told by 
one of his busy courtiers, that Avalos was near 
and might be taken. " Better tell Avalos to 
escape," replied right royally the king, "than in- 
form me of his being in my power." 

Three months after (Oct. 1522) Charles's re- 
turn, a proclamation of pardon to all Castile was 
made in his name and in his presence, upon the 
great square of Valladolid, that square of many 
different scenes. " Considering the ancient loy- 
alty of these kingdoms, and the great and famous 
deeds which their native people have performed 
. . . and regarding that the people, knowing their 
errors, have now returned to obedience . . . and 
desiring that all the subjects and natives of the 
kingdom may now and henceforward live in tran- 
quillity and peace, and that they may love the 
king with perfect love, and be bound in greater 



272 WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 

duty to serve him : . . . Therefore, of his own 
will, sure knowledge, deliberate pleasure and ab- 
solute power, the king doth pardon and absolve, 
now and forever, all the cities and towns of Cas- 
tile from all the crimes and excesses, greater 
or less, as many as have been committed and 
done, from the beginning of the year 1520, until 
this present day." This was the plan of pardon, 
and all its succeeding details were worthy of such 
a beginning. A great festival followed at Yalla- 
dolid, in which the king himself took part, re- 
joicing that his subjects were bound to him a^ain, 
and those subjects, too, rejoicing that their deeds, 
brave or violent, were forgiven them. 

Here Sandoval, a Spanish historian, who has 
been at our side throughout the war, draws a long 
breath, and says : "I come, as one who has sailed 
afar, tossed by the waves and broken by the 
worse than civil commotions of my country, to 
the fortunate port and fair weather of a glorious 
reign." ^ 

And most men, who have been called histo- 
rians, would say the same thing of Charles the 
Fifth's reign, that it was great and glorious to 
himself and to his people. But such things shall 
be said no longer. Dominion is given to man 
over his fellow-men, not that the weaker may be 
crushed, nor that the stronger may trample, iron- 
heeled, upon human rights and human lives, but 



WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 273 

that the stronger may make his power dear even 
to the weaker, by its justice and its charity. 
Charles of Spain declared the principles by which 
he meant to reign, when he pronounced the depu- 
ties of the " Holy Council "to be traitors, ordering 
them and the Commoners to death without delay 
of trial, anulando las leyes en contrario, asando 
de sn poderio real absolute, como senor natural de 
estos reinos, annulling all contrary laws by virtue 
of his absolute royal power as natural lord of 
Castile. Such principles as lay, seen or unseen, 
in this declaration, were not the principles, for 
whose sake monarchy was acknowledged as 
necessary to human government in the fifteenth 
and sixteenth centuries. Kings' and Emperors' 
responsibilities rested upon higher duties than 
victories abroad or triumphs at home ; their offices 
on earth were not completed by binding in chains 
and tears, the subjects intrusted them by God. 
Unrighteous, however, as they often were, those 
earthly sovereigns were still, unconsciously, ful- 
filling the holy purposes of Providence, and re- 
sistance to their power, while it endured, was 
impossible. So did the Commoners of 1520 fail 
in rebellion against their king. The freedom they 
sought at the sword's point, would have been 
more surely won in patience and in peace. Any 
great work of man must be prepared before it 
can be sustained; but the Commoners scarcely 
knew what they were about at any time, and their 

18 



274 WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 

liberties were more injured by themselves than 
they could have been, perhaps, even by absolute 
Charles. A revolution will never succeed, — such 
testimony all history bears, — if it have no other 
supports than frenzy or bloodshed.* Among the 
Commoners there was not only want of under- 
standing and preparation, but quite as much want 
of union and good faith. Where one was earnest 
like Padilla, many another was false like Pedro 
Giron. It was a great cause that they upheld, 
but it needed stouter arms and truer hearts, and 
gentler means and better times than theirs. Peace 
to the fallen ! 

From the day of Villalar, the course of Castilian 
history is changed. The spirit of the early Chris- 
tians, whom we followed to the mountains, aban- 
doned their descendants, whom we are leaving on 
the southern plains. Soldiers drew their swords, 
henceforward, for royalty and not for liberty. 
Historians repeated the glories of kings, and not 
of nations. Philosophers devoted their contem- 
plations to the powers of sovereignty, rather than 
to the rights of subjects. Even poets sang of any 
other thing than the memories and the hopes of 
freemen. Deeper and darker have been the shades 
so long fallen upon Spain, deeper and darker 



* " Revolutions, which are brought on by general distress, in at- 
tempting to remedy it, usually destroy the foundations of a perma- 
nent free constitution, and, after horrihle convulsions, have almost 
always ended in despotism." — Niebuhr, Hist, of Rome, Vol. II. 



WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 275 

every year, even when the majesty of her name 
has been most universal. 

" Yet, freedom, yet thy banner torn, but flying, 
Streams like the thunder-storm against the wind ; 
Thy trumpet-voice, though broken now and dying, 
The loudest still the tempest leaves behind ! " 

To that " trumpet- voice " the world will never 
shut its ears, nor, while we hear its most distant 
echoes, will we doubt the coming to Spain of 
serener liberties than those for which Juan de 
Padilla died. 



LETTERS OF PADILLA. 

See page 264. 

Carta de Juan de Padilla para su Muger. 

Senora, Si vuestra pena no me lastimara mas que mi muerte, yo 
me tuviera enteramente por bien aventurado. Que siendo a todos 
tan cierta, senalado bien hace Dios al que la da tal, aunque sea de 
muchos planida, y del recibida en algun sevvicio. Q,uisiera tener 
mas espacio del que tengo para escribiros algunas cosas para vuestro 
consuelo : ni a mi me lo dan, ni yo querria mas dilacion en recibir la 
corona que espero. Vos, Sefiora, como cuerda llora vuestra des- 
dicha, y no mi muerte que siendo ella tan justa de nadie deve ser 
llorada. Mi anima, pues ya otra cosa no tengo, dejo en vuestras 
manos. Vos, Senora, lo haced con ella, como con la cosa que mas 
os quiso. A Pero Lopez mi sefior [padre] no escrivo porque no oso, 
que aunque fui su hijo en osar perder la vida, no fui su heredero 
en la ventura. No quiero mas dilatar por no dar pena al verdugo 
que me espera, y por no dar sospecha que por alargar la vida, alargo 
la carta. Mi criado Sossa, como testigo de vista, e de lo secreto de 
mi voluntad, os dira lo demas que aqui falta, y asi quedo dejando 
esta pena, esperando el cuchillo de vuestro dolor y de mi descanso. 

Otra Carta de Juan de Padilla a la Ciudad de Toledo. 

A ti Corona de Espana y luz del todo el mundo : desde los altos 
Godos muy libertada. A ti que por derramamientos de sangres 
estrafias como de las tuyas cobraste libertad para ti e para tus 
vecinas ciudades. Tu legitimo hijo Juan de Padilla te hago saber 
como con la sangre de mi cuerpo se refrescan tus vittorias ante- 
pasadas. Si mi ventura no me dejo poner mis hechos entre tus nom- 
bradas hazafias, la culpa fue en mi mala dicha, y no en mi buena 
voluntad. La qual como a madre te requiero me recibas, pues Dios 
no me dio mas que perder por ti de lo quo aventure. Mas me pesa 
de tu sentimiento que de mi vida. Pero mira que son veces de la 
fortuna, que jamas tienen sosiego. Solo voy con un consuelo muy 
alegre, que yo el menor de los tuyos muero por ti : e que tu has 



WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 277 

criado a tus pechos aquien poclria tomar emienda de mi agravio. 
Muchos lenguas habra que mi muerte contaran, que aun yo no la se, 
aunque la tengo bien cerca. Mi nu te dara testimonio de mi deseo. 
Mi anima te encomiendo como patrona de la Christianidad ; del 
cuerpo no digo nada, pues ya no es mio, ni puedo mas escribir, 
porque al punto que esta acabado, tengo a la garganta el cuehillo, 
con mas pasion de tu enojo que temor de mi pena. 

[of these letters the translations follow.] 

Juan de Padilla to his Wife. 

Wife, if your grief did not trouble me more than my own death, I 
should consider myself to be most entirely fortunate. For since 
death is so sure to all men, God shows greatest favor to him who 
meets such a death as mine ; if, although it be much deplored on 
earth, it may be accepted as some service by Him. I wish that I 
had more time than I have m write you something for your conso- 
lation ; but this is not given me, nor would I ask any longer delay 
in receiving the crown I hope for. You, wife, may reasonably 
mourn over your own loss, but not over my death, which is too 
honorable to be mourned by any one. I leave my heart, and I have 
nothing else, now, to leave, in your keeping ; and do you, wife, still 
cherish it as that which most dearly loved you. To Pero Lopez, to 
my father, I do not write, because I dare not ; for although I was his 
son in risking this loss of life, I have not been his heir in good for- 
tune. I will say no more, lest I trouble the executioner who now 
waits for me, and lest I should be suspected of lengthening my let- 
ter for the sake of lengthening my life. My servant Sossa, who 
will have seen all that has happened, and will be acquainted with 
all my secret desires, will tell you what is here wanting; and so I 
break off, ending this grief,, at least, and waiting the knife which 
will be the instrument of your sorrow and of my repose." 

Juan de Padilla to the City of Toledo. 

" To thee, crown of Spain and light of the whole world, free from 
the great Goths' time : to thee, that hast won freedom for thyself 
and for thy neighboring cities, by lavishing both stranger blood and 
thy own. I, thy legitimate son, Juan de Padilla, do now make thee 
know how thy past victories may be refreshed with the blood of my 



278 WAR OF THE COMMUNITIES IN CASTILE. 

body If I have not been permitted by suecess to set up my own 
d eds amongst all thy recorded glories, the fault was m my bad 
fortune and not in my good will , whieh last I rmp or thee as a 
mother to aeeept, sinee God hathgiyen me uo ^'^^^e 
I had already risked for thee. I am more troubled about thy re 
sentment than about my life i yet these are but the change of for- 
un which neyer cease. I go with the yery joy ul cousola.tou tha 
I the least of thy children, am dying for thee, aud that there >s some 
one nourished a. thy bosom who will make amends ««>>**£»£ 
There will be many tongues to tell of thts death of wh.h I do not 
yet myself, know all, although it be very near to me ; but my end 
Vm bear witness to thee of my desires. I commend my spmt to 
thee as to the patroness of Christendom , of my body I say nothmg 
as it is no longer mine ; nor can I write anything more, for, at the 
moment ust Led, I have the knife upon my throat, yet wuh more 
sorrow for thy disappointment than fear of my own suffenng. 



END. 



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